The Movement of the Earth
by audreyii-fic
Summary: Jacob imprints on Bella. It changes things. A re-write of New Moon, beginning on page 242 in Chapter 10: "The Meadow."
1. The Meadow Redux

_**NOTICE:**__** It has been recommended that before you begin reading this, you may want to read the Author's Note at the end first... so you know what you're getting into. Doing so would lead to some spoilage. It's up to you.**_

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_**Disclaimer**: This is a very direct New Moon AU, and as such, large portions of this fic will be lifted more or less verbatim from the book, particularly in the first few chapters. They will not be marked, not because I wish to claim Meyer's work as my own (God forbid) but because marking looks silly. I have no rights to New Moon, these characters, or the Twilight Saga in general. I am not Stephenie Meyer - and trust me, if I was, I wouldn't admit to it._

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_**A/N**: I'm writing a story about imprinting in classic fanfiction style while attempting to mesh as seamlessly with Stephenie Meyer's writing style as possible. To the best of my ability, the only changes I'm making to New Moon are as follows:_

_-The obvious one listed in the summary_

_-Modifying dialogue to sound like real people are using real words_

_-Maintaining continuity of characterization (in my opinion, this is the point in the saga at which Meyer actually went OOC with her own creations, something I didn't even realize was possible until I read these damn books)_

_-Giving Bella a cell phone and pepper spray (the former because the idea that an eighteen year old girl in 2006 wouldn't have a cell phone requires too much suspension of disbelief, the latter because it's cool)_

_I should also mention that I am, at minimum, the 900th person to tackle this scenario. As per usual, I make no claims to originality._  
_  
Fifteen to twenty chapters. Saturday and Wednesday updates (I hope - stay on my ass about this, folks). Angst Threat Level Orange. If you want to back out now, I understand._

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_**The Movement of the Earth**_

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_One consequence of all this is that everything attracts everything else with gravitational forces. The earth attracts the apple and the apple attracts the earth with the same force. The apple is the one that moves noticeably because it is so much lighter (and easier to move) than the earth._

_**-Jim Loy, "The Law of Gravity" **_

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_I didn't like that - didn't like the way his eyes closed as if he were in pain when he spoke of being bound. More than dislike - I realized I **hated** it, hated anything that caused him pain. Hated it fiercely._

_**-New Moon, Chapter 12: "Intruder"**_

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_even your emotions have an echo in so much space  
Shawn Colvin, "Crazy"_

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**Prologue. The Meadow (Redux)**

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A year ago, I'd never given much thought to how I would die.

Funny, how things change.

"Mouthwatering," Laurent repeated, inhaling deeply as he leaned toward my throat. Even though I knew what he was about to do to me, his voice was still soothing, his smell hypnotic. A portion of my mind - the _alive_ part - urged me to flee, to at least _try_ to save myself. But my senses rebelled and told me that what would happen next wouldn't be so bad; after all, nothing that came from someone so much like _Edward_ could be terrible.

_Edward, Edward, Edward._ His name burst through the walls I'd built to contain it - what difference would it make if I thought of him now? _Edward, I love you._ I would love him until I died. Which was admittedly only a few moments away, so I guess it didn't mean that much...

I was so busy listening to my own head, it took me a moment to realize that I _wasn't_ dead. Laurent's head had whipped to the side, and he was staring into the trees, backing away from me slowly. "I don't believe it," he breathed.

Daring to look away from my would-be murderer for a moment, I glanced to my right, scanning the line of trees that edged the meadow. Nothing - nothing that my useless human eyes could see, anyway...

...then, there it was, coming out of the forest. An unfathomably huge black shape, larger than a horse. It moved with a bizarre lightness and grace for something so gigantic. I knew immediately what it was, what it had to be - the animal that was causing so much trouble. The bear.

_Charlie's going to need a lot more shotguns,_ I thought blankly as it came forward, stalking towards Laurent, a predator facing down a predator. Funny that I would care about something like that right now, but my mind seemed to be shutting down, taking all my emotions with it. Blue screen of death in Bella's brain. This was all too much.

The black shape growled, revealing impossibly sharp teeth. Bears didn't growl like that. It couldn't be a bear. I followed the form of the animal with my eyes, taking in the long jaw, the swishing tail... the canine shape... a dog?

No. Not a dog.

A wolf.

A _huge wolf_.

Laurent continued to retreat. Why would he do that? Gargantuan as this wolf - or whatever - was, I knew what vampires were capable of, and surely Laurent could tear it apart limb from limb with his marble hands if he so desired. But Laurent's perfect face was frozen with horror. He was _afraid_. It didn't make any sense at all.

The black wolf growled thunderously again, and the hair stood up on the back of my neck as two more shapes emerged from the foliage, padding silently onto the dead grasses. A gray wolf and a brown wolf, eyes locked on Laurent, flanking the black wolf in what looked strangely like a battle formation.

"Don't move an inch," Edward's voice whispered in my ear, and I shuddered. The memory of James' poison flowing through my body was all too vivid, and I couldn't help but wonder which would be worse, the venomous bite or wolf dismemberment. Either way, there was no question of getting out of this meadow alive.

I choked back a semi-hysterical giggle. Death by vampire or mutant wolf. Sometimes, I really, _really_ missed Phoenix.

Two more wolves, gray and reddish-brown, flanking again. They now formed an enormous, monstrous V formation, aimed directly at Laurent, whose blood-filled eyes were wide. The reddish-brown wolf was so close that I could touch it, and when its russet fur actually brushed my arm, I gasped involuntarily. The wolf turned its head, just enough to glance at me. Its intelligent eyes were dark, almost black. They took me in.

Something _shifted_. Just a little, like the time I'd spent a week with Charlie in San Francisco when I was fourteen and I'd gotten dizzy for a half-second, stumbling in the street. A passerby had laughed at me and said with a wink not to worry, it was just a little earthquake, happened all the time.

Just a little earthquake. Then it was gone.

The russet wolf's entire body shook, and it turned to stare hungrily. _Vampire bite or wolf dismemberment._ Tough choice. Another hysterical giggle fought to escape my chest. I took a step backward, and a high-pitched whine came out of the wolf's throat, like it was in pain.

Edward's honeyed voice roared furiously in my head.

Maybe I was dreaming.

I hoped so.

The leading black wolf brought me back to reality with a series of ear-splitting barks that echoed through meadow and made me flinch. The reddish-brown wolf jerked to attention, growling as one with the rest of the pack.

Laurent - I'd nearly forgotten about Laurent, how strange was _that?_ - turned and ran, his black hair flowing behind him, speeding like the hounds of hell were on his heels. Which they were. Snarling and snapping, the wolves dashed after the vampire, somehow managing to keep pace as they chased him into the woods, vanishing into the thickness of the forest almost instantly.

Silence fell across the meadow, and I was alone again.

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I didn't think about where I was going when I first left the meadow - I just... _left_. I stumbled through the forest, over mossy branches and tall ferns, falling more than once, too overwhelmed to even be afraid.

Laurent had returned. He was being chased through the wilderness by wolves the size of SUVs. I was alive, somehow, for reasons I didn't understand. At least until Victoria found me - Victoria, who would make being eaten by Laurent seem like a gift from heaven.

_Too much, too much, too much._

Forty-five minutes of aimless wandering later, it finally occurred to me to check my compass. I had to set it on a boulder in order to read the needle; I hadn't even realized I was shaking. It took another hour to rediscover where I'd parked my truck - I'd gone off in the completely opposite direction - and when I began to drive, I couldn't figure out why the road was blurry. Apparently not only was I shaking, I was crying. I swiped the tears away with a muddy hand and tried to focus.

I wanted to go home. No, scratch that, I wanted to go to La Push. I wanted Jacob. I wanted Jacob and his sunniness and his smiles.

_That doesn't matter_, I told myself sternly; I might want Jacob, but Jacob certainly didn't want _me_. He wasn't sick anymore, but he hadn't come to see me, hadn't even bothered to return my calls. So I held down the instinct that told me to turn the truck around and head in the other direction, and kept on a steady course for Forks.

It was late by the time I got home, and the slanting sun glared off the windshield as I climbed out of the cab. Charlie's cruiser was parked in the driveway. I glanced down at myself - I didn't exactly look like I'd spent a quiet afternoon doing Calculus homework. Oh well.

"Bella?" Charlie called as I trudged in the front door. I glanced briefly at the locks - they wouldn't help me. If Victoria was coming, nothing would.

"Yeah," I said tonelessly. "It's me."

"Where have you _been_?" he thundered, appearing in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, glowering at me. "I didn't-" He blinked, and his arms dropped to his side as he took in my bedraggled appearance. "Bells, what _happened_?"

"I went hiking," I admitted. "I didn't feel like going to Jessica's, so... yeah."

He groaned in exasperation. "I thought I told you to _stay out of the woods_, Bella! Do you have a death wish?"

_Maybe._

I flinched away from the blackness of that thought. "Yeah, I know. Dad - I saw the animal. Well, _animals_. They're not bears, they're wolves. Five of them." At least if I could provide some information about the animal attacks. For once I wasn't completely useless.

Charlie stared at me, his eyes going wide. "Wolves?"

"I think so. They're kind of too big to be wolves" -_that_ was an understatement- "but... I don't know what else they can be."

"And you _saw_ them," he pressed. "From how far away?"

I swallowed. "Close. Really close. Close enough to touch." Close enough to look in the eye.

In a flash Charlie was standing right in front of me, scanning me anxiously from head to toe. "Did they hurt you?" he demanded. "Are you okay?"

"No, I just fell a lot. Like usual." I tried to smile at him. "They didn't seem that interested in me." They were only interested in a granite-skinned predator that should have torn them to pieces but ran in the other direction instead... _why?_ It didn't make any sense. _None_ of this made sense.

Charlie's gaze flicked over my face, and lines appeared between his eyebrows. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Just... sit on the couch, Bells, all right? I need to call the station."

"I really just want to go to bed," I protested, the room spinning a little. I felt as though Laurent had succeeded, and everything inside of me had been drained out. "I'm kind of tired."

Charlie opened his mouth, then closed it again and frowned. "No," he said finally. "Go sit down and wait for me to make this call. They might want some more details." He scratched the back of his neck and looked at me uncertainly. "Then... you should probably eat something. You don't look so good."

"Dad-"

"Humor your old man, all right?"

"Fine," I snapped, peeved. Charlie looked hurt at my tone, and I felt a flash of guilt. He'd been worried about me. "Sorry. Just... it's been a long day, you know?" I offered by way of explanation. "Food is a good idea. I'm pretty hungry." I was lying, but his expression smoothed out, so it was worth it. I'd wait a couple minutes, take a few bites of whatever he offered, then escape to my room.

The phone call to the station didn't take long. I fudged on a few of the details; I made it sound like I'd stayed safely on the north path, instead of wandering into the middle of the forest with only a compass and a seriously deficient sense of direction to guide me. It meant the rangers wouldn't be looking in _quite_ the right place... but it would be better if no one went near Laurent, anyway. I didn't need anyone's blood on my hands.

Besides, though I obviously couldn't say anything, there was no reason for the rangers to worry anymore. The wolves were surely dead by now. There would only be so long before Laurent decided to put an end to the chase. Oddly enough, I felt sorry for them - it wouldn't be a pleasant way to go.

Charlie sat down on the coffee table in front of me and pushed a plate of lasagna into my hands. "It's just leftovers from Tuesday," he said, sheepish. "I heated it up in the microwave."

"Thanks, that's perfect," I said honestly. If it was leftovers I wouldn't have to feel bad about only eating a little and throwing out the rest. I picked around the edges as Charlie kept staring at me. It felt like I had been stared at a _lot_ today. "What?"

"Bells..." Charlie glanced away, scratching the back of his neck again. "Bells, do you _like_ cooking?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"I found a lot of leftovers in the fridge, and, well, you made all of them." Charlie looked thoroughly uncomfortable. "You just... started doing all the cooking when you moved in, so I figured you really liked it."

"Dad, I don't mind," I said, still confused. "I'm _used_ to making dinner all the time. It's not a big deal. I've been doing it forever. Mom's an awful cook."

Charlie cracked a smile at that. "Yeah, I know. She always was." Then his expression grew serious again. "But being used to it shouldn't mean... maybe when you first got here I should have talked to you about it. I don't want you to think you _have_ to... you know what I mean?"

I didn't. "Sure."

"I think maybe I should do some of the cooking from now on," he continued. "I grill a mean steak, you know."

"If that's what you want."

"But that doesn't mean I don't like _your_ cooking too," he added. "I don't mean... it's not that I'm saying-"

"No, Dad, I get it," I interrupted, letting him off the hook. Another lie. I had no idea what he was talking about. "Don't worry. I look forward to the steaks."

"Okay." Charlie sighed with relief, clearly glad to have gotten that out of the way - whatever _that_ was. He retreated to his recliner and flipped on the TV to one of the sports channel; a hockey game was on.

I tried to eat another bite of lasagna, but it stuck in my throat.

"Bells?" Charlie's voice was hesitant, and I looked up at him. "Do you... want to watch?" He gestured at the TV. "It's going to be a good one. Red Wings versus the Wild."

Charlie was officially acting strange. He'd never actually invited me to watch a game with him before. "Um... okay," I said slowly. "Why?"

He shrugged and muttered something about leftovers.

A tendril of shame threaded itself through my body. I'd kept Charlie from getting a good night's sleep for months. I'd gone out into the forest without thinking about what it would do to him. I was acting like a zombie again tonight and sparking some kind of leftover-obsessed concern. It wouldn't hurt me to spend one hour paying attention to a little ball moving on a sheet of ice. "Sure, Dad, I'll watch," I said with false enthusiasm, setting aside the plate and laying down on the couch.

Surprisingly, hockey wasn't as boring as I thought. Charlie talked about the rules as we watched, but no matter how many times he explained it, I couldn't figure out what constituted a penalty. It seemed like it was okay for the players to beat each other with sticks all they wanted without getting in trouble. Finally Charlie just said it was all part of the game.

In the third section - or period, or inning, I wasn't sure - Charlie said unexpectedly, "By the way, I saw Jacob in town today after I picked up Harry. I thought you said he was in Port Angeles?"

I frowned. "That's what Billy told me." I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and checked it discreetly. No _Missed Call_ on the little screen. A weight pressed against my ribs. "I guess the movies were really short or something."

"He looked better... I know you were worried."

"Yeah." I was _still_ worried. And depressed. "What... what was he doing?" I asked cautiously.

"He was with some friends. It looked like he was arguing with them. I waved, but he didn't notice." Charlie shrugged again, like that was a normal teenage boy thing.

"Oh," I said noncommittally. Actually, that made some sense. Jacob didn't argue with anyone, really... but if he was, and with his "friends", then it could only be for one thing: he had to be confronting Sam about Embry. If he'd ditched me for that, I was okay with it - I knew how freaked out he'd been. Maybe a confrontation had done the trick and Jacob had gotten Embry back. Maybe he'd call me tomorrow and tell me. Maybe _I'd_ call _him_ and ask.

Loneliness settled into my chest, like an infection around the ever-present wound. I missed him. I knew that wasn't good - I depended on Jacob far too much, especially when I knew he was hoping for things from me that I wasn't capable of giving - but I missed him anyway.

By the time the game was over, I was snuggled deep into the couch, fighting to keep my eyes open. Charlie reached for the remote and turned the TV off with a click, then stood and stretched. He gave my shoulder a little shake. "Bells?"

I yawned. "Yeah, I know. Bed." I was tempted to just spend the night comfortable and warm on the couch, but my muscles, already sore from the day, would protest in the morning.

Charlie looked at me for a moment, then, of all things, reached out and ruffled my hair. "Have a good night." Unfortunately, both knew how unlikely that was.

I trudged up the stairs, settled into bed, flicked off the lamp, and stared out the window into the blackness of the night, wondering if anyone was looking back. Once upon a time, the idea of someone opening the shutters and entering my room filled me with blinding, unstoppable joy. Now...

Victoria was coming for her revenge - and she would have her revenge on _me_, not Edward, the way we had assumed. There was nothing that could stop her, no one to hold her back. The only ones that could have protected me were the Cullens, and they were long gone.

Victoria wanted a mate for a mate - and Edward didn't even want me as his mate.

In a way, it was actually kind of funny.

_"You must not mean very much to him if he left you here unprotected."_

I turned my face into my pillow as the hysterical, vaguely demented giggles I'd been holding back in the meadow finally erupted to the surface - _too much too much too much - _ and I literally laughed myself to sleep.

In my dreams I heard howling.

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_**Sanity Report**: Being as I am making every effort to replicate Stephenie Meyer's... unique... voice, this fic will also double as the audreyii_fic Slow Descent Into Madness Show. __If I perish in the endeavor, please tell people that I died saving adorable kittens from a house fire, not that my brain exploded in self-defense rather than use "glower" six times per chapter._


	2. Rescue

_**Repeated Disclaimer**: Once again, there's a lot of direct lifting from New Moon here - sometimes whole sentences, sometimes just phrases, but still. Just to remind you, I do not own Stephenie Meyer's work, because I am not Stephenie Meyer. Otherwise I'd be using my millions of dollars to buy a new laptop right now, because writing on the desktop is just NOT working. Then I would bathe in champagne with the Old Spice Guy._

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_compared to some, i've been around / but i really tried so hard  
Neko Case, "Hold On Hold On"_

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**1. Rescue**

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My routine for the next week was fairly straight-forward.

Wake up. Realize I'm breathing. Sneak into Charlie's room. Confirm that _he's_ breathing. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.

Take shower. Dress. Eat breakfast. Drive to school. Sit through class. Make small talk with Angela, Mike, Eric, and Jessica. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.

Drive to work. Stock shelves. Answer questions from customers. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.

Come home. Do schoolwork. Eat whatever Charlie has made for dinner. Assure Charlie dinner is delicious. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.

Go to room. Change into pajamas. Sit on edge of bed. Call Jacob. Get no answer.

Climb under covers. Think about giant wolves. Think about Victoria. Think about Edward. Think about bleeding, gaping wounds. Curl in a ball. Go to sleep. Dream of injured howls and empty meadows and blood-red eyes.

Wake up several times during the night. Check cell phone to see if Jacob has called.

Repeat.

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Friday afternoon, as I drove home from school, it hit me out of the blue - and I literally slammed on my brakes in the middle of the road, coming to a screeching, skidding halt on the pavement.

Jacob wouldn't avoid me like this. It was completely out of character for him. Even if he'd given up on me, even if he'd finally understood that there was no hope, even if I'd hurt him too badly for us to continue being best friends... he wouldn't refuse to take my calls. It just wasn't in his nature. I knew him too well for that.

Add in the short, unhelpful answers from Billy... the way Charlie had said he was arguing with some boys from the reservation...

_It was Sam Uley_. Sam had finally gotten to Jacob.

A wave of anger and self-loathing washed over me, searing the wound in my chest like cold salt water. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._Why hadn't I seen it earlier? It was embarrassingly obvious. If I'd _thought_ about it instead of just obsessing over how I missed him, if I'd tried harder, if I'd _realized_-

A sedan behind me leaned on the horn, sending a piercing blast through the misty air. I shook my head and stepped on the gas, lurching forward with a jolt, then pressed harder against the pedal, forcing the speedometer up to the truck's absolute maximum - sixty-five miles an hour. The engine groaned in protest.

I was going to Jacob's, I decided resolutely. I would sit in his front yard until he turned up. I'd stay all night if I had to. I would find out what had happened, what Sam Uley had said to him, then I would drag him out of there the way I should have done the minute he'd told me about the cult. And, if necessary, I would run Sam down in the street, maybe even back over him a few times. That was all there was to it.

It wasn't too late, right? It couldn't be.

My mind was so preoccupied that the trip I'd been so determined to make seemed to take only a few seconds. Before I was expecting it, the forest began to thin, and I knew I would soon be able to see the first little houses of the reservation. I wondered which one of them belonged to Sam Uley. Maybe it would be better if I went _there_ first. I still had my pepper spray in the glove compartment.

Focused on feverish thoughts of righteous vengeance, I nearly drove right past the boy walking away on the other side of the road.

For a second my breath caught. _Jacob_. Was it Jacob? No, I wasn't that lucky; this boy was too wide, his hair too short. It took me a moment to recognize him as Quil Atera.

I pulled over, the right wheels of the truck squishing into the soft mud on the side of the asphalt, and rolled down my window. "Hey! Quil!"

He looked up in surprise, and I blinked, sure my eyes weren't focusing properly. Quil looked... _bigger_ than the last time I had seen him. How was it that all these Quileute boys were going through their growth spurts in the same few weeks? At Forks High, Eric was still six inches shorter than Mike. "Hi, Bella," Quil said dully, knocking me out of my confused thoughts. He looked terrible.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" I offered, glancing up at the steel gray sky. "It looks like it's going to rain." As usual.

"Sure, I guess." As he walked around the front of the truck his sneakers scuffed against the pavement, and it reminded me of how Jacob had kicked the tires on the bike when he'd first told me about Sam's cult, a rhythmic little _scrape scrape scrape_.

"Where to?" I asked as Quil climbed into the cab.

"My house is on the north side. Back behind the store." He drummed his fingers against the door handle.

"Have you spoken to Jacob lately?" I asked as I eased the truck out of the mud, the wheels spinning a little. Maybe Quil had some information that I didn't have access to, not living on the reservation.

"Nope," he said darkly. "He hasn't talked to me in weeks."

My fists tightened on the steering wheel. "Me neither."

Quil snorted. "If he isn't talking to _you_, then it must _really_ be bad." He turned his head and spat out the open window. "Guess he doesn't have any time for _us_ now. Hasn't been in school either. He only hangs out with-" He cut off suddenly, scowling.

"With Sam," I completed for him. Quil looked over at me, surprise written all over his face, and I explained, "Jacob told me about him and his gang. Before."

"_Before_," Quil echoed, bitterness dripping off the word. "Right."

"Have you _seen_ him, at least?"

He looked out the windshield, a muscle in his jaw working. "From a distance. Him _and_ Embry. I tried to follow them today, but they just disappeared into the trees. I'd been yelling for them for an _hour_ before I found the road and you showed up." He muttered something under his breath that I didn't catch, and I was pretty sure it wasn't complimentary towards his former friends.

We drove in silence for a minute, until I finally voiced the question that had been eating at me. "What's going on, Quil? Drugs, maybe?" Even as I said it, it felt wrong. Not Jacob. Jacob was so _naturally_ happy. "What is Sam saying to them?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Quil said. "Jacob _hated_ this cult crap. But then again," he added, still bitter, "so did Embry. I hate it too, so I guess I'll be next, won't I?"

"Of course you won't be," I said fiercely. My hands were starting to hurt from their death grip on the wheel. "Don't talk like that. I won't let that happen."

Quil looked at me, eyebrows raised in amusement, and snickered. "Yeah, Bella. Sure." There wasn't any real sting to his words, though. Then he sighed. "This is... I don't know, messed up. It's freaking me out pretty bad."

"No kidding. I don't suppose your parents-"

He shook his head. "They haven't been a damn bit of help. My grandfather's on the council with Jacob's dad. Sam Uley walks on water and shits sunshine, as far as they're concerned." When I coughed in shock, he winced and glanced over in chagrin. "Uh. Sorry."

"It's fine." If I was going to be hanging out with Quil and Jacob more - and once I dragged Jacob out of here, I wasn't letting either of them out of my sight for a _second_ - I guessed I would need to get used to more colorful language than _Holy crow_. "Seriously, none of the adults are worried at _all?_"

"Not even a little. Weird, huh?"

I frowned. "Very." If _I _dropped out of school and started following around an older man like a puppy, Charlie would have me locked up. He'd nearly done it and I had only been mourning.

The hole in my chest throbbed achingly at the reminder, but I swallowed hard and shoved the pain away. I couldn't be distracted, not now. If this rescue mission was going to work, I needed to be focused on the task at hand.

"This is it," Quil said, pointing out the window at a small wooden rectangle behind the village's only store. I pulled over, and he gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks for the ride. Want a soda or something?"

"Can't," I replied, my knuckles turning white on the wheel. "I'm going to go wait for Jacob."

"Hope you have more luck than I did." Quil hopped down onto the pavement. "Thanks again, Bella. Kick Jake's ass for me."

"You better believe it."

Quil's anger buoyed me as I made a wide U-turn and headed back towards the Blacks'. What was Jacob thinking? How could he treat his friends like this? Dodge their phone calls, run off into the woods without them? How _dare_ he!

At the same time, a little thread of relief snaked its way into my heart. If Jacob was ignoring Quil too... then it wasn't about me. This determined avoidance wasn't because of how I'd shot him down at the theater, trying to pull my hands away from his. I hadn't ruined everything with my clumsy, ham-fisted treatment of my best friend's heart. We could still be the way we had been.

Once I dealt with Sam, that is.

I gritted my teeth as I pulled up in front of Jacob's house, killing the motor and rolling down the windows. The humidity made my hair stick to my neck, and I heard an ominous rumble from the sky. I put my feet up on the dashboard; the heavens could open up overhead if they wanted, but I wasn't going anywhere until I saw Jacob. More than that - I wasn't going anywhere _without_ Jacob. When I left, he was coming with me. End of story. I was willing to be annoyingly persistent, too.

A movement flashed in my peripheral vision - I turned and spotted Billy looking at me through the front window with a confused expression. I smiled and gave him a sarcastic little wave. His eyes narrowed; he let the curtain fall across the glass. He'd looked annoyed. I didn't care. If Billy didn't like that I was here to retrieve his son, then he should have taken better care of him in the first place.

Fifteen minutes ticked by. I dug up a pen and an old test out of the bottom of my backpack. If I had paused to do any planning, I would have brought a book to help pass the time; as it stood, I'd have to settle for doodling.

I'd only had time to absently scrawl one row of diamonds on the paper when there was a tap against my door. I jumped, looking up, expecting Billy.

It wasn't Billy.

It was Jacob.

Sort of.

"Hi," he said hoarsely.

My mouth fell open. Jacob had changed radically in the weeks since I'd seen him. He looked _older_; the final vestiges of childhood had disappeared from his face, which was now sharp and hard. His beautiful hair was gone, cropped short and choppy against his head. He was shirtless, which gave me a view of the muscles that had filled out and thickened practically overnight, and I was positive that he was taller, at least an inch, maybe two. It shouldn't have been possible - _no one_ grew that fast - but here was the proof, right in front of me.

But none of that mattered next to the change in his expression. Jacob's open, friendly smile was gone, and in its place was an incomprehensible combination of anger and pain and misery, mixed with another emotion, one I couldn't put my finger on. Whatever it was, it was awful.

Jacob stared at me, his eyes raking over me with burning intensity, and I felt a lump gather in my throat. Something was terribly wrong. "Jake," I whispered, trying to smile, "your _hair_..." I reached through the window to touch his head, but Jacob dodged my hand lightning fast, as though I'd tried to hit him. The haunted look on his face intensified.

The lump in my throat got bigger, and to my mortification, I felt my eyes fill with tears. I tried to blink them back. I'd come here to fight for my best friend, not cry at his feet like a little kid. "Jacob, what happened to you?"

With what looked like Herculean effort, Jacob stepped backward, edging away from the truck. He didn't answer me.

It was then that I realized we weren't alone. Behind him stood four others; tall and russet-skinned, black hair chopped short like Jacob's, impossibly muscled, all giving me curious looks. One of them surely had to be Embry, but I couldn't figure out which one. They could have been brothers.

The only one who looked different was Sam Uley. He stood in the back, undeniably the oldest, the man among boys, examining me with a too-knowing gaze. I saw now what Jacob had meant about not liking the way Sam looked at him.

White-hot fury rose so fast in my veins that I got a little light-headed. This was all _his_ fault. I didn't know _how_, but it was. In that moment, it didn't matter that I was a hundred and ten pounds, five foot four, and could barely lift a gallon of milk. I was going to _kill_ Sam for putting that look on Jacob's face.

Edward's dulcet tones suddenly cautioned in my ear, "They are dangerous, Bella. Do not risk pushing them."

I was too enraged to pay attention.

I opened the door to the truck with a squeak of metal and jumped out, landing in a puddle. Mud sloshed into my tennis shoes. I only managed to take two steps forward before the three boys closed ranks, forming a solid wall of muscle between me and Sam. I still couldn't figure out which one was Embry.

_If I was a vampire, they would get out of my way._ The thought rose with such viciousness that it took my breath away, and the hole in my chest seared with fresh pain. I wouldn't ever be a vampire, now. That future was lost to me forever.

I used my anger to slap the agony aside sharply. This wasn't the time for that. "Jacob," I said, glaring at the boys blocking my way, "I want to talk to you. Alone."

There was a pause, then from behind me I heard Jacob say, "Sam?"

The wall of muscle in front of me turned as one toward Sam Uley, in perfect coordination. A shiver ran up my spine. What was going _on_ around here?

From between two shoulders, I saw Sam nod once, still giving me an evaluative look. He made a brief comment in a sing-songy language I'd never heard - probably Quileute, I realized - then turned and walked into Jacob's house. The others - Embry, and I vaguely remembered the names Paul and Jared - followed him in wordlessly.

I faced Jacob, and was surprised to see him watching the departing boys with a look of betrayal. Then his gaze was back on me, roving over my form with that horrible, incomprehensible expression. He didn't say anything.

I took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay. Get in the truck, Jake. Let's get out of here."

His brow furrowed on his newly sharp face. "What?"

"We need to talk. But not here." I pointed at the house, where a cult was waiting to steal my friend away. "Not around them. You can come home with me, okay? You can stay there. Quil too. I'll keep you safe, I promise." I had no idea _how_ I would keep that promise, but I had a vague image of myself sitting on the front stoop with Charlie's shotgun in my hands. I'd never fired a gun before, but I could learn.

"Quil," he whispered, his face growing more pained.

"Yeah, you remember him, right? Your friend?" I said, a touch of hardness in my voice. "I ran into him on the way here. He's freaked out. He thinks he's next."

"No," Jacob mumbled, turning a strange shade of green under his dark skin. "No, that can't be right. It should stop now. There won't be any more."

I nodded. "You're damn right there won't be any more. Now come on."

Jacob shook his head slowly, his eyes still on my face. "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"_No_, I can't," he bit out, an edge to his voice that I'd never heard before. His hands were shaking. "I can't do what you want, even if I want to, so don't ask." The hopelessness on his face ripped new wounds into my chest, leaving me full of holes like Swiss cheese. I stepped forward, intending to comfort him, to do _something_...

...and Jacob stepped backward.

The lump returned to my throat at the obvious rejection, and this time, the tears spilled over. I could feel them running down my face, hot and sticky. None of this made any sense, none of it.

His eyes widened with horror as he realized what was happening. "Are you crying? Am I making you cry? I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry, Bells, _please_ don't cry. I don't want you to cry."

"What the hell else am I supposed to do, Jake?" I spat, swiping angrily at my cheeks. I was furious at him, and at Sam, but mostly at myself. I didn't stop this from happening in the first place, I couldn't convince Jacob to leave, and now, of all things, I was _crying_. Some rescuer I was. "Why are you acting like this? I don't understand! You _hated_ Sam!"

"I was wrong," Jacob said huskily. "I just didn't get it before. I don't hate him." His eyes flicked towards the door momentarily, and a touch of resentment crossed his face. "Well, maybe a little bit right now," he amended under his breath.

"You didn't get it before," I repeated, still sniffling. "And, what, now you do?"

He nodded slowly.

"Well, hallelujah. I'm so glad you've seen the light." I couldn't think of what else to say, so I just crossed my arms and leaned against the truck, staring at the ground. Helplessness suffused every part of my being and I _hated_ it.

A quiet moment passed, then Jacob said unhappily, "This is all wrong. I hate this. Everything is ruined. I had a _plan_, and now... it shouldn't be like this at _all_."

"You're right. It shouldn't." I studied the mud on my shoes, refusing to look up until I was at least reasonably sure that my tears wouldn't make a reappearance. "So why are you acting like it _has_ to be?"

"I can't tell you."

I snorted. "Can't, or won't?"

I heard something like grinding teeth. "Won't."

"Right."

We stood in silence for a long, miserable moment.

"You need to go home, Bella." The words were slow and distinct, like he was having to force them out of his mouth. "This isn't something that... it's not... I don't want you to be involved in this."

I looked up at Jacob, my breath freezing in my lungs.

_"You... don't... want me?" I tried out the words, confused by the way they sounded, placed in that order._

_"No."_

"Well," I said mechanically, like I was reading from a very familiar script, "that changes things."

Jacob's eyebrows came together in puzzlement for a moment. Then he sucked in a sharp breath. "_No,_ Bells. Not that." His hands were shaking again, and he clenched them into fists, the newly developed muscles on his forearms bulging. "It is _nothing_ like that."

"Sure."

"I'm telling the truth." That strange expression was back as Jacob held my gaze with burning intensity. "You have to believe me. It isn't like that at all." He reached toward me automatically, and for one joyous second I thought he was going to pull me into one of his warm, crushing, the-world-really-is-worth-living-in hugs - but then he caught himself and pulled back.

Understanding struck. Jacob didn't want to send me away. I couldn't figure out why he thought he _had_ to, but he definitely didn't _want_ to.

If I could just convince him...

"Jacob," I said slowly, trying to feel out the right words. "I know what I said, how... how this is different for you than it is for me-"

He flinched.

"-but, I mean, maybe I was wrong. I could... try harder. I will. I _will_ try harder. Just... maybe, if you give me some more time, things would change."

This was by far the biggest lie I'd ever told. I knew the truth - that I _hadn't_ tried, not even a little. I hadn't even attempted to feel anything for Jacob other than friendship, because I hadn't had the wherewithal to put us both through an endeavor so obviously doomed to failure.

But I would try now, if that's what it took. I didn't think I would succeed - I _couldn't_ succeed - but I would do _anything_ that stood the smallest chance of wiping that terrible expression from his face. If this was what Jacob needed from me, then so be it. I couldn't stand seeing him look this way. "Please," I whispered. "_Please_ don't quit on me. I'm not going to quit on you. Let me help. At least let me _try_."

I'd hoped my words would make Jacob happy, but instead, he looked like I had just slipped a knife between his ribs. The agony in his eyes took my breath away. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then finally he said in a choked voice, "You can't help me, Bella. No one can. But especially not _you_."

I was glad I was already leaning against the truck, because otherwise I would have collapsed to the ground. "Jake, don't-"

"Sam?" Jacob's whole body was shaking as he called towards the house, cutting me off. "Sam!"

Sam Uley opened the front door of the house instantly and stepped onto the front porch. He narrowed his eyes at Jacob, seeming to take in the situation with a glance. Then, with a tiny shake of his head, Sam said, "Come inside."

Jacob disappeared into the house so fast that he nearly flew. Sam gave me another one of those speculative looks, then shut the door with a firm click.

And, right on cue, rain started to pour from the sky.

I was unable to move from where I stood. I stared at the little house; it looked too small to hold four large boys and two larger men. There was no reaction inside. No flutter at the edge of the curtain, no sound of voices or movement. It faced me vacantly. I waited for several minutes, my clothes getting soaked in the downpour as I tried to keep breathing when it felt like every vital organ had been ripped out of my body. I forced one lungful of air in, then pushed it back out again. In, then out. Again. Again.

Finally the door opened, and Billy rolled into sight. I couldn't see anyone behind him. "Charlie just called, Bella," he said. "I told him you were on your way."

I shook my head.

"Bella," Billy said, firm now, "you need to go."

"No," I croaked as I came forward slowly, stepping up onto the porch. I still hadn't done what I came here to do. "I'm not leaving without Jake."

Billy's eyes flashed. "This is where Jacob belongs, Bella. I know you don't understand, but-"

"_No!_" I tried to look past Billy into the darkened living room, struggling to fight off a rising panic that threatened to shake me to pieces. If I left him here alone, God only knew what they'd do to him. "_Jacob!_"

From inside the house, I heard a low moan. The sound make my hands tremble.

"Bella." Billy's voice had turned as cold as winter. "_Go home._" He rolled back inside and slammed the door shut.

I stood staring blankly for a long minute, then turned robotically and walked across the yard, incapacitated by rage and my own helplessness. Jacob was mere feet away inside his house, but unless I wanted to break down the front door and pepper spray his disabled father, there wasn't _anything_ I could do about it.

The rain beat sideways through the open windows of the truck as I climbed in, turned on the engine, and drove away. I barely noticed. It wasn't like I could get any wetter.

_Not as bad! Not as bad!_ my mind tried to comfort me.

_Not the same,_ I retorted. And it wasn't. Edward's loss had ended my world. It had punched a hole into my body and taken away everything that had brought my life meaning, everything I'd hoped for in my future. But at least I had the cold comfort of knowing that Edward was better off. He'd rid himself of the ridiculous little human girl who had been holding him back, and now he could make his way as the glorious angel he was, unencumbered. Without me he was free and happy.

Jacob wasn't free. And he certainly wasn't happy.

The wounds in my chest hurt so badly that I glanced down, half-expecting to see blood soaking my shirt. But it was only rain.

When I pulled up into the driveway, Charlie opened the front door. He'd been waiting for me in the foyer. I stumbled up the front steps, water running in rivers out of my clothes. "Billy called," he explained as I stepped inside, wringing out my ponytail. "He said you'd gotten in a fight with Jake?"

"Kind of," I murmured.

"Well, I wouldn't worry, I'm sure you two will..." He trailed off when he saw my face, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Bells? Are you crying?"

_Too much too much too much._

I burst into noisy, pathetic tears, and, desperate for some kind of comfort, stepped forward and rested my head on Charlie's chest. His arms hesitantly came up to circle my shoulders as I sobbed, "Dad, Sam Uley's gotten to Jacob, he's cut off all his hair and he... his face..." I gulped for air, panic starting to rise again. "You should have seen it, I can't- there's something _wrong_ and Billy told me to go away and I don't know what they're doing to him-"

Charlie rubbed my back, and I realized I was shivering. I could probably add 'gave myself hypothermia' to my accomplishments for the day. "Okay. Okay, Bells. It's going to be all right." He pulled away a little bit and looked me in the eye. "You really think there's something wrong with the Uley kid?"

I nodded, my vision blurry. "I know there is. He was there. He was... _looking_ at me."

Charlie's face got hard. "I see." He straightened and blew out a breath, glancing over my shoulder at the opposite wall for a moment. Then he nodded decisively. "All right then. Bella, listen, why don't you go dry off, okay? I'm going to make a few phone calls." He pushed me gently in the direction of the stairs and headed for the kitchen, muttering darkly.

I decided to take a shower to try and alleviate the cold - it truly felt like I would never be warm again. I stood under the scalding water until the stream turned tepid, then shut off the tap with a sigh. In the sudden quiet, I could hear Charlie talking to someone downstairs. I wrapped a towel around myself and cracked the bathroom door.

Charlie's voice was as angry as I'd ever heard it. "That's bullshit. That's total bullshit, Billy, and you know it."

It was quiet then, and I realized he was on the phone. I moved closer to the stairs, eavesdropping shamelessly.

"Don't you put this on Bella!" Charlie shouted without warning. "If you really think I'm going to believe-" He cut off briefly, then continued with a growl, "Well, obviously I give your son more credit than _you_ do, since I think he'd be smart enough to figure that out."

I swallowed. I had never known my father to talk like this before, especially not to Billy Black. I felt a whole new surge of fury; this mess was damaging my father's relationship with _his_ best friend, too. It wasn't fair.

"Yeah," Charlie continued acidly. "Yeah, you do that. But you better tell those kids that if someone so much as tosses a can on the side of the road, I'll have their asses at the station before they can blink. And _then_ I will get some real answers." A short pause, then, "Fine. Yeah. Goodbye." The phone slammed into the cradle.

I crept across the hallway and into my room, shutting the door behind me. Having Charlie on my side at least made feel less alone, but realistically, there wasn't much he could do as long as Sam's cult stayed on the straight and narrow. As I pulled on my pajamas and climbed into bed, I wondered if I could convince Angela to call the station and claim she'd seen some Quileute guys smoking a marijuana joint. That would be all the opening Charlie would need.

The hours ticked by, but I didn't fall asleep. Instead I stared at the ceiling and came up with plans to save Jacob, each more ridiculous than the last. It was past midnight when I stopped wondering whether it was legal to ship tranquilizer guns internationally and the simple, obvious solution slapped me in the face.

It was the middle of the night. Sam Uley couldn't possibly be at Jacob's house right _now_.

I jumped out of bed and shrugged into my hoodie instantly. He'd be alone, aside from Billy - and Billy couldn't get out of bed without help. I would just climb in his bedroom window, hopefully without breaking any bones, and talk and talk and talk until Jacob _listened_ to me. He would have to physically drag me out to make me leave... and that didn't seem likely.

Yes. This could work. I snuck down the stairs, pausing for a second as the wood creaked under my weight. There was no sound from Charlie's room, and I made it out the front door without tripping over something and giving myself away.

I was halfway to my truck when I heard the scrape of gravel shifting in the driveway. I froze, staring into the darkness, unable to make out the figure I suddenly knew was there.

_Victoria._

In my panic, I'd forgotten I was still being hunted.

A strange, numbing peace settled into my body. There wasn't anything I could do now, aside from hope that once I was dead, she would be satisfied with her revenge and leave Charlie in peace. There were no decisions to make. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable strike.

But the killing hit didn't come. "What are you waiting for?" I whispered, almost impatient.

"I'm waiting," a voice said, "for you to open your eyes."

I did.

It wasn't Victoria.

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Order_

_**Sanity Update**: I never realized how badly Meyer split up her action before. I mean, I knew, but looking at it this closely... it's bad. Really bad. No flow at all, chapters where a ton of events are squished into a few paragraphs and then fifteen pages of navel-gazing, all kinds of crap, and I'm bound to more or less follow nonetheless. And there are whole sentences of hers that make no sense. None. Let me tell you, this is proving to be an amazingly educational experience in its own way._


	3. Order

**_The Disclaimer Returns_**_: Hey, this chapter lifts from New Moon AND Eclipse AND Midnight Sun - how about that! But I still don't make any claims to owning it. And I don't give mumbling, incomprehensible interviews to fan sites, so I must not be Stephenie Meyer._

* * *

_this is a cold war / you better know what you're fighting for  
__J__anelle Monáe__,__ "Cold War"_

* * *

**2. Order**

* * *

I gaped in shock as the hulking figure of Sam Uley emerged from the darkness.

He was shirtless and in ragged cutoff shorts, as he'd been at Jacob's house. He nodded serenely at me, one hand resting on the hood of my truck. "Hello, Bella," he said, totally calm.

"I- how- why-?" I sputtered inelegantly, the soggy grass squishing between my bare toes. "What are you doing here?"

"I'd like to talk to you." He spoke as though he had every right to be standing in front of my home in the middle of the night.

Until now, I'd always thought 'seeing red' was just an expression - but it actually felt as though a real crimson haze had descended over my vision, blocking my view of the man that was ruining my best friend's life. "Don't touch my truck," I ground out from between clenched teeth, my anger finding focus in the strangest place.

Sam didn't even acknowledge my words. "I'm sorry to have to do things this way, but Jacob's... _stubbornness _hasn't left me with many options."

"Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Truck."

"I don't like leaving the others," he continued, "even for a few hours, but really, the only other one who could have come to do this is Jared. That's a bad idea for a lot of reasons." Sam frowned slightly as he spoke, and he absently drummed his fingers along the red metal of the hood.

Something in me reached a breaking point. I took two steps forward, pulled my arm back and then let it snap foward, punching Sam in the mouth with as much power as I could force out of my body.

There was a crunching sound.

"Ow! _Ow!_" I hissed, trying desperately to keep quiet. I yanked my hand back to my chest and sharp pain shot up my arm. Something was fractured, I could feel it. "Damn it!"

For a moment, it looked like a _ripple_ ran through Sam's body - but it was gone as fast as it came. And there wasn't even the tiniest mark on his face. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking concerned and more than a little surprised. He reached for my wrist and I jerked backwards.

"Don't touch me," I said, glowering. "Get out of here, or I'll scream."

Sam glanced in the direction of the darkened house. "I'd rather you didn't," he said.

"And I'd rather _you_ stay the hell away from Jacob," I shot back, rubbing my wrist as it started to swell. "Now leave, or I'll wake up my father and he'll shoot you. And when you're dead I'll kick your body."

Sam blinked at me for a moment, then did the _most _annoying thing he could possibly do - he _chuckled_. "Emily is really going to like you," he said, smiling indulgently, like I was a furious kitten who thought she was a tiger.

I was so mad I could hardly see straight, and the stabbing pains in my hand weren't helping. "Who is Emily? No, wait, I don't care. What are you doing lurking on my lawn in the middle of the night?"

"I wasn't lurking, I was waiting," he corrected. "Like I said, I need to talk to you. I only got here a few minutes ago. I didn't expect that you all went to bed so early."

"It's almost one in the morning."

"That's early for me," Sam said with another smile. "I was going to leave, but then I heard you moving around inside and figured I'd wait for you to come out. Where were you going?"

I rubbed my wrist and glared. "So you want to talk," I snapped, dodging his question. I certainly wasn't going to tell him that I was about to drive to the Blacks' for Rescue Mission Part Two. "Are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on?"

"No," he said flatly. "That's not my place."

"So whose place is it?"

"Jacob's."

My hands clenched into fists involuntarily, sending new spasms through my broken bones. "What have you _done_ to him?"

"Nothing." Sam's entire demeanor was relaxed and controlled. Like we were talking about the weather instead of some horrible mindtrick he'd inflicted on my best friend that had somehow, in a mere two weeks, taken away all of the light that had made him who he was.

If it wasn't for the fact that I'd already broken my hand, I would have thrown another useless punch. "I don't know what your little cult is up to, but you give Jacob back," I demanded, trying to call on some air of authority or intimidation. "You give him back to me _right now_."

The words coming out of my mouth didn't even made sense.

What was going _on?_

Sam gave me that speculative, penetrating look again. The one that practically screamed _I know something you don't know._ "I've never seen this from the outside before," he remarked. "At least, not directly. It's really very interesting."

This was doing _nothing_ for my temper. "Did you just come here to be cryptic?" I said acidly. "Or do you actually have something to say?"

"No, I have something to say."

"Then _say it_ and get the hell out of here."

At that moment the full moon broke through the clouds, and in the sudden relative brightness I saw just how truly enormous Sam Uley was. He was at least six and a half feet tall, and seemed to be made of solid muscle and bone. I had to crane my neck just to glare properly. He looked too big to be _possible_.

And here I was, threatening him.

I swallowed and hoped my sudden attack of nerves wasn't too obvious.

If my mouthiness bothered Sam, he didn't show it. Instead he said evenly, "You'll go to First Beach tomorrow morning. Jacob is going talk to you. He will answer all of your questions then."

"Huh?" The emotional day and sleepless night was beginning to catch up with me; my hand throbbed miserably. I understood less and less of what Sam was saying as our conversation wore on. "I... I thought you didn't _want_ Jacob to talk to me."

Sam's expression was almost pitying. "No. I've been trying to get him to contact you for over a week."

It took a few moments for what Sam was saying to sink in - then new pain lanced through my chest. It wasn't _Sam_ that was keeping Jake away... he was avoiding me all on his own. It was my worst fear come true. "What makes you think he'll talk to me now?" I asked hollowly.

"Because this time I ordered him to."

"You..." I looked up at him in shock. "You did what?"

"I ordered him to talk to you," Sam repeated. "So he will."

His arrogant words destroyed the remains of my fragile patience and ignited a fuse inside me, one that threatened to blow me to pieces with fury. "What right do you have," I hissed dangerously, "to tell him what to do? Just who do you think you _are?_"

As desperate as I was to speak to him, the idea of Jacob being ordered to do _anything_ against his will made me want to set the world on fire.

As I tried to get my breathing under control, Sam narrowed his eyes, studying me again. His probing stare roamed over my face, then my body, seeming to take in each of my features. I felt like a piece of meat; crossing my arms defensively accomplished nothing aside from sending another spasm of pain through my hand, but I refused to back away from him on my _own lawn. _After a long moment he said abruptly, "Are you Quileute? At all?"

The non-sequitor threw me for a loop. "No."

"How about Makah?" he persisted, still examining me closely.

I raised an eyebrow and held my good arm out. My whiter-than-white skin all but glowed in the moonlight. It spoke for itself.

Sam frowned. "Right. Still, it's not like you're a blonde or anything... you don't have a single drop of Native blood? Are you sure?"

"I don't think so." As far as I knew no one had done genealogy on my family, but both Renee and Charlie were from the Pacific Northwest... technically, I supposed it was _possible_ that I had a Quileute ancestor, but if so it was so far back as to hardly matter. It certainly didn't show in my singularly Caucasian appearance.

Cold gripped me as the pieces clicked.

_"They're all about our land, and tribe pride," _Jacob had said.

Was _that_ the problem? Was that why Sam had called Jacob back inside the house this afternoon, why Billy had sent me away? Jacob had become too close to me, and my lack of Native blood was unacceptable?

If my extreme whiteness was indeed the issue, there wasn't much I could do to solve it.

"I..." I swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward, but I was determined to defend myself. "If... if it doesn't bother Jacob, then I don't see what business it is of yours."

A wrinkle appeared on Sam's forehead, then he shook his head with impatience. "No, that would be a family concern, and it doesn't matter _now _anyway. It's just... a surprise, that's all." He stared off into space, lost in thought. "I'll need to talk to the Council about this," he said absently, like he wasn't speaking to me at all. "The legends have really left a lot out."

"_What_ legends?" I snapped. "This is ridiculous. Give me some straight answers."

Sam's expression cleared, and for a moment I thought he was going to laugh at me again. "No. That's for Jacob to do."

"Right," I said sarcastically. "Because you _ordered_ him to."

"Yes." He was thoroughly unrepentant on this fact.

Furious tears pricked at my eyes. I hated feeling helpless, and I was never anything _but_ helpless. I couldn't keep my best friend out of a cult; I couldn't rescue him from them; I couldn't even throw a punch without breaking my own hand. I was useless. "How can you do this to him?" I said harshly, forgetting to keep my voice down. "Just... order him around, make him so unhappy? Jacob doesn't deserve it! How can you be such an awful person?"

Sam's expression darkened, and that ripple passed through his body a second time.

"Don't push him." I jumped as I heard Edward's velvety voice in my ear, like liquid gold. As always, it filled the wounds in my chest - well, one of them, anyway - with delicious pleasure. "Let him calm down."

I waited quietly. I would do anything for that voice.

After a moment, Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't expect you to understand yet," he said, bitter anger bleeding from his entire being. "I've tried to stay out of it, out of courtesy and because it really _is_ between the two of you, but Jacob is wasting too much of his energy fighting something that _can't be fought_. I need him focused or someone's going to get hurt, so this has to be resolved, and it has to be resolved _today_. For the good of the pack."

"The pack," I echoed sarcastically. "Is that what you're calling it?"

But apparently I'd finally gotten to Sam, because his face was hard and all signs of amusement or tolerance were gone. "Jacob _will_ be at the beach this morning." He glared at me, and I nearly shrank away. "_You_ will be there too, and you will ask him the questions you want answered. Then I'll give him the afternoon to get his head screwed on straight, but he has to be back on patrol this evening. This is his _last chance_ to do it himself. Tell him that."

I stared at him. I'd never known I was capable of feeling this level of hate, and it burned with an insane heat. My anger was the only part of me that felt warm. "You can't tell me what to do," I spat.

Sam struggled for a response for a moment, seeming to fight for his temper, then finally exhaled. "That's true. But if you care about Jacob, you'll listen to me."

"If _I_ care about Jacob?"

"I have to go," he said, ignoring my outrage. "Thank you for coming out in the middle of the night. It saved me some time." His tone was both ironic and grudging.

I kept my mouth shut sullenly.

"I'm sorry about your hand," he added. "Just so you know, you actually throw a pretty good punch. Once it's healed I'll teach you some better techniques."

This was too much. "Do you always offer self-defense lessons to girls you've injured?" I muttered.

To my surprise, Sam flinched visibly at my words. For a moment he looked much younger - but the hard and bitter mask returned in an instant. "I will see you soon, Bella Swan," he said quietly, before turning and running off into the woods across the road.

I blinked and looked around. I hadn't realized until now that Sam hadn't brought a car with him. Had he _walked__?_

This made _no_ sense.

Exhaustion, dizziness, and nausea flooded my body, and I staggered, nearly falling to my knees in the wet grass. I must have been running on pure adrenaline. I was suddenly aware of the thick, woolen feeling in my brain that told me I'd had too little sleep and food, and the throbbing in my right hand came back with a vengeance.

Great.

I turned around and padded quietly back into the house, opening the door with my left hand. The stairs squeaked when I crept back to my room, but Charlie didn't wake.

I closed the door behind me silently, then stripped off my hoodie, wincing as the sleeve pulled over my broken hand. I'd eat dirt before I let Sam teach me anything, but maybe Charlie could show me some ways to hit a person that actually caused damage. In spite of Sam's compliment, I obviously threw a pathetic punch. Sam hadn't even _flinched_.

Cradling my arm to my chest, I laid down in bed, and tried to think. It was hard. I was confused, tired, hurting, and not a little strung out.

How could it be that _Sam_ wanted me to know what was going on, and _Jacob_ didn't? Since when did Jacob not trust me? I had thought it was the cult that was keeping him away, but if it wasn't... what had I done? _It_ _isn't like that at all,_ Jacob had said when I'd assumed his rejection was because he didn't care, or because I'd hurt him too badly with my rebuffing of his more-than-friendly feelings; but if it wasn't that, what could it possibly be?

The bones in my useless right hand throbbed, keeping me from focusing properly. What I wanted more than anything else in the world was to sleep, but there wasn't time for that. If I was going to go see Jacob in the morning - and one way or another, I _was _- I would have to do something about my stupid injury first.

A moment or two of planning, and I had a plan I thought would probably work. I took a deep breath, then deliberately rolled out of bed, grabbing my nightstand with my good arm and knocking it over in the process. The furniture toppled, and the lamp shattered on the floor with a clatter. Unfortunately, the scream I loosed as I hit the floor didn't have to be faked - I'd accidentally landed on my broken hand for _real_, the weight of my body crushing it against the hardwood planks. "_OW!_"

Charlie burst through my bedroom door in an instant, his hair sticking up every direction. "Bella? Bella, are you okay?" He took in the broken lamp and knelt at my side, searching me frantically. "What happened?"

"Bad dream," I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut and trying not to throw up. I'd done something bad to my bones in the fall. If they were only fractured before, they were _definitely_ broken now. "I fell out of bed. My hand hurts."

He pulled my right arm away from chest as I sat up, then made a face. "I think it's broken, Bells."

"Yeah, I think so too." I held back a sigh as I realized this surely meant yet another hospital trip.

Charlie's train of thought obviously led him in the same direction, because he shook his head ruefully and said, "Good thing the force has great health insurance."

"Guess so."

* * *

The trip to the hospital was short and uneventful, all things considered; an x-ray showed that I'd thoroughly broken two bones in my hand, and as a result I would be in a cast for five weeks. The doctor asked some pointed questions about how it had happened - he clearly doubted the "falling out of bed" story - until Charlie told him to look at my medical file and see how accident-prone I really was. The doctor let it go after that.

I kept looking up at the double doors, half-expecting to see Carlisle walk through with his inhumanly beautiful smile. He didn't. At least the pain in my chest distracted me from the pain in my arm.

Charlie held my left hand as the right got wrapped in layers of plaster, snapping at the nurse every time I winced.

I swallowed two pills of medication that the doctor handed to me. Moments before I lost consciousness, I overheard the doctor asking Charlie whether my body temperature was always so low. Then I was out.

I didn't dream.

* * *

When I woke up, I was in my own bed. Sunlight streamed through the windows. I rolled over groggily and blinked at my alarm clock, which sat on my now-righted nightstand.

It read ten forty-seven AM.

Oh, no.

I stumbled out of bed, instinctively reaching up to rub my bleary eyes - and flinched when I hit myself in the nose with my cast. Fantastic. Because what I _really_ needed right now was to be even clumsier than usual.

It felt like it took forever to get my clothes on as I tried to button my jeans with my left hand. After a few aggravating minutes I gave up on wearing my hoodie, unable to force my cast through the sleeve, and had to settle for a short-sleeved shirt. I hoped the beech wouldn't be too cold. More hypothermia wasn't going to help anything. Once I was _finally _decent, I raced downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. I almost ran into Charlie as I skidded into the hallway, headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"I have to go see Jacob."

Charlie frowned at me. "I thought the thing with Sam-"

I shook my head. "That doesn't matter. We... um, he called me last night after I went to bed. We're going to talk." I was spending entirely too much time lying these days. "I should have been there hours ago."

"Well, a middle of the night ER visit changes things," Charlie said firmly. "You can meet Jacob later."

"No. I have to go _now_."

He narrowed his eyes. "I really don't think it's a good idea, Bells. And I'm not sure it's safe down there with this gang business."

"Please, Dad." He was blocking my path to the exit. I considered ducking around him and making a run for it, but I knew I would have to explain that to him later. "Please. I need to talk to him, and I'm not sure I'm going to get another chance."

Charlie paused for a long moment, taking in the expression on my face. Then he sighed resignedly. "Straight there, right? No stops on the way?"

"Of course not, where would I stop?" I was losing valuable time - Jacob might have already left.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It's just... well, there's been another attack. The wolves again. I was supposed to go out to help with the hunt this morning, but I wasn't going to just leave you to..." He trailed off, uncomfortable. Then he continued gruffly, "The victim was only a dozen yards away from the road when he disappeared, so I don't want you getting out of the truck until you get to La Push. Not for _anything_, do you understand?"

"Right, of course, no problem," I said as I slipped on my shoes. Thank goodness I had a pair that didn't require lacing.

Charlie nodded, then glanced at my cast. "Are you sure you can drive with that?"

"I'll figure it out."

"All right." He clearly still didn't like the idea, but at least he was letting me go. "But, Bella, if you haven't called me in one hour to let me know that you're at Jacob's and you're safe, I'm coming down to get you. In the police cruiser. With the lights flashing."

I shuddered at the mental image. "Don't worry, I'll call."

"Okay then." Charlie glanced down at my wrist again, then reluctantly stepped out of my path. "Drive safe, it's wet out."

"It's always wet out," I responded, opening the door and ducking out into the mist.

The dampness of the late morning settled onto my skin instantly, making me shiver. I wondered if mildew would grow inside my cast before it came off. If there was anywhere that something like that could happen, it was Forks.

As I touched the door handle of the truck, I heard that glorious, perfect voice in my ear. "No, Bella. Don't go."

_Why not?_ I asked the invisible Edward, closing my eyes.

"Jacob is dangerous," Edward responded, and my body vibrated with pleasure at his musical intonation. My brain did such a _perfect_ job of replicating it that I could almost feel him standing beside me. "You could get hurt. You must stay away from the reservation, Bella."

I opened my eyes.

_No. I can't. I have to go._ It was agony to refuse the angelic tone, but my hand tightened on the door handle, and then I was climbing into the cab of the truck.

"Be sensible, Bella." The voice was more stern now. He was disappointed with me.

My stomach churned with misery; my throat felt swollen as I swallowed against the nausea. I have to help him_,_ I whispered mentally. _I'm sorry._

I put the keys in the ignition, got the engine running with a sputter, and pulled out of the driveway to go to La Push.

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Red Pill_

**_Sanity Update_**_: __Imagine me saying, "Oh, right, this is where there's exposition, and then Bella should be self-centeredly introspective for several paragraphs," at which point I flop face down in bed for half an hour. That's what things look like around here at the moment.__ Editing for this chapter induced vomiting and a massive migraine. Also, "golden" no longer looks like a real word.__  
_


	4. Red Pill

_**Son of Disclaimer**: While we're starting to ease off, there are still significant portions of this fic that are lifted directly from New Moon (and Twilight via New Moon, interestingly enough). I make no claims to owning any portion of the Twilight Saga, because if I did, I would be suing Stephenie Meyer's ass off. And since one cannot sue one's own ass off, it also stands to reason that I am not Stephenie Meyer._

* * *

_we're so close to something better left unknown / i can feel it in my bones  
Metric, "Gimme Sympathy"_

* * *

**3. Red Pill**

* * *

The dirt lot at First Beach was devoid of other vehicles. If the weather had been nicer, then there likely would have been a few people on the shore, families or groups of teenagers, surfing maybe, or sunbathing or picnicking - but it was after eleven-thirty and there was no sign of the sun peeping through the clouds. The day would be gloomy. It seemed appropriate, somehow.

I didn't see Jacob - but I knew where he'd be if he was still here.

I paced down the beach toward the north seawall, finding a rough path through the tall hedge of weeds. The wind whipping off the water was frigid, and I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to hold in a bit of the precious body heat that seemed to be eluding me at the moment. I glanced down at my cast, irritated. If the weather didn't warm up soon, I would have to walk around with an afgan over my shoulders like an old woman - or cut off the right arms off all my long-sleeved shirts.

After a few minutes of picking my way carefully across the rocks, trying not to fall and break my _other_ arm, I found what I had been searching for: a long bone-white driftwood tree stranded far from the beach. The roots twisted up at the seaward end, like a hundred brittle tentacles.

Jacob was sitting on the largest branch, staring out at the waves. His short hair still rendered him almost unrecognizable. Maybe I'd get used to it eventually.

I came forward until I was only ten feet or so away, then stopped, pebbles shifting under my feet; Jacob had to have heard me, given that everything about my travel had been noisy, but he didn't speak up. My eyes roved over his half-naked form - was there some sort of rule in this 'pack' about wearing shirts? - until finally I blurted out, "Aren't you cold?"

Jacob's mouth twitched, but he didn't look away from the ocean. "Nope," he said. His voice was quiet and dark. It made me think, foolishly, of unsweetened chocolate.

Anger swelled up in me again. It wasn't right that Jacob, the sweetest person I'd ever met, had somehow been made bitter. I _hated_ it. I had to fix whatever it was that was making him that way, and I had to fix it _right now_. "Jake, what-"

"I was thinking maybe you weren't going to come," he said, interrupting me before I could complete the question.

I grimaced guiltily. "Yeah. I'm really sorry, I meant to come first thing, but the painkillers knocked me out-"

"Don't be sorry," Jacob interrupted again. His face was stony in profile. "I was hoping you _wouldn't_."

The stark rejection of his words made me feel even colder, like I'd stumbled into the seawater on the beach. "Oh," I whispered. I tried to wrap my arms around the holes in my chest that threatened to shatter me, but the stupid cast kept getting in the way.

Jacob frowned suddenly, obviously registering my words for the first time. "Wait, what painkillers?" He swung his long legs off the branch and turned to face me; when his eyes met mine, his expression shifted into that thing I didn't understand, save that it caused him pain. I studied his features, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, and he swallowed hard under my scrutiny... but he didn't look away. I had the vague feeling that his intense gaze should have felt uncomfortable, or invasive.

It didn't.

After a long moment, his eyes left my face and moved over my form, coming to rest on my right arm, still cradled to my chest. "What happened to your wrist?" he demanded. "It wasn't like that yesterday."

"It's not my wrist, it's my hand," I corrected him, uneasily noticing the tension in his body. Jacob seemed... on edge. I decided that this wasn't the time to tell him about my pathetic attempt to injure his cult leader. "I fell out of bed and broke a couple of bones. Just one more misadventure in the hopeless life of Isabella Swan." I shrugged like it was no big deal.

Jacob stared at me for a long moment. Then his eyes narrowed. "You're lying," he proclaimed.

Damn. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. What's the real story?"

I shifted my weight awkwardly as I looked down at the rocks. He _really_ wasn't going to like this. "Well, uh, the thing is, Sam came to see me last night-"

"_Sam?_"

"-and then I was, um, kind of yelling at him a little, and I sort of-"

There was an inhuman growl.

I looked up in surprise to see Jacob's body shaking violently. The driftwood tree vibrated underneath his gigantic frame. "I'm going to kill him," he snarled, his eyes back on my cast, his face twisted with unfamiliar rage. "I'm going to rip his fucking throat out."

I couldn't figure out what shocked me more: the violent spasms, the way the f-word seemed to come so naturally from his mouth, or the fact that he was angry with Sam and not _me_. "Jake," I said hesitantly, "it's not that I don't sympathize with the throat-ripping-out sentiment - believe me, I do - but I kind of did this to myself. I'd rather you not go to jail just because I can't throw a punch."

Jacob blinked, and the shuddering stopped almost as quickly as it started. "What are you talking about?"

This was _so_ humiliating. "I... hit Sam," I said reluctantly. "I hit him in the face. And I broke my hand."

"You did _what_?"

"You heard me," I snapped, scowling.

He blinked several more times... and then, for the first time in weeks, I saw Jacob Black smile. "Seriously? That's _awesome_, Bells."

My mouth dropped open in surprise. This was unexpected. "I thought you'd be mad."

He grinned, and the sunniness of it warmed me. "Naw. I mean, I wish you hadn't gotten hurt, but... I can't believe you could reach his face! What did you do, stand on a box?"

"_No_." It figured that Jacob would use this as an opportunity to mock me about my height - for the millionth time. "I just... stretched."

Jacob chuckled and shook his head. "You decked Sam. _You_ decked _Sam. _Seriously, Bells, that is the _best_ mental image I've had in a long time."

I rolled my eyes. "For all the good it did. I broke my hand and didn't even leave a mark."

The sunniness vanished from Jacob's face instantly. "No," he said, dropping his head into his hands with a resentful sigh, "it wouldn't."

The atmosphere had shifted so fast that I was left feeling dizzy and disoriented; the mood-swings from this new, short-haired Jacob were difficult for me to follow. For a second things had been better - we'd felt _right_ again, like the time apart had never happened. Obviously I'd said something wrong. I reached for Jacob's shoulder tentatively, intending to offer some sort of comfort or apology.

"Please don't," came his muffled voice from between his fingers.

I pulled back. "Why not?" I said plaintively.

"Because," he said, still hiding his face, "it'll make it worse."

"Make what worse?"

"The imprint," Jacob whispered. It sounded like the words were being torn out of him.

I paused and waited for him to say more, but he just sat silently, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped in resignation. _Imprint_. "Am I supposed to know what that means?" I asked finally.

"No, you're not."

"Why?"

"Because I haven't told you yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

I frowned, frustrated confusion building in my mind. There was something very strange about this entire conversation, something wrong in the way that Jacob was responding... I inhaled sharply as I realized what it was. "You're answering my questions, aren't you?"

Jacob _finally _lifted his head from his hands and gave me a half-smile. There was absolutely no humor in his face. "Yes."

"But," I persisted, "only the _exact question that I ask?_"

"Yes."

I shook my head, thoroughly aggravated. This was beyond ridiculous - not to mention bizarre. "But... _why_?"

"Because Sam ordered me to," Jacob said simply. Then he smiled again, and it was even worse than before. "But I don't have to offer anything _extra_. He should be more specific when he tells me to do something."

"You..." I tried to wrap my head around it. I was starting to get a migraine. "You seriously _have_ to answer me?"

"Yep." Jacob stared at me, and the blazing intensity in his gaze caused my skin to flush with a glowing heat, as though it was tilted towards the sun. "But, Bells, just because I have to _answer_ doesn't mean you have to _ask._ Have you ever seen The Matrix?"

I blinked. "Yeah, why?"

"It's like the blue pill and the red pill," he said feverishly. "_You_ get a choice. If you leave, right now, you don't have to know. Sam won't be able to do anything about it. But if you ask, then I'll have to answer, and there's no going back after that. So just walk away, all right?" The final words clearly pained him.

"But," I said slowly, "wasn't the whole point of The Matrix that you're _supposed_ to take the red pill?"

Jacob blew out an annoyed breath. "No, the _point_ of The Matrix was for Keanu Reeves to blow things up and look badass. Work with me here, Bella, I'm not so good at analogies that don't involve cars."

"That's going to be a problem on your SATs," I tried to joke.

He snorted. "I don't think I'll be taking them now." The intensity in his face faded into something closer to hopeless anxiety as he pleaded, "Bella, it'll be better if you go. It- it just shouldn't be like this. It's _my_ problem to deal with. So don't ask, okay?"

"Listen to him." Edward's velvet voice appeared in my head again suddenly, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Go home. Now."

I drew a shaky breath. Whatever was going on, it was clearly very serious - and possibly dangerous. That Edward's voice should want to protect me was no surprise; he didn't even want me to talk to strangers in Port Angeles. But Jacob, Jacob who helped me ride motorcycles and reveled in teenage debauchery... if _he_ was trying to get me to leave, then this had to be really, really bad. Worse than I'd thought.

And they'd both lost their minds if they thought I'd leave Jacob alone to deal with it by himself. "I am _not_ going to walk away from you, and you're an idiot for asking," I said.

Jacob looked down at the ground and kicked a rock, his expression miserable. "I thought you might say something like that."

"Do you really want me to go?" I persisted. I didn't want to make it into a question - _why_ did he have to answer? - but I couldn't think of another way to ask, and I needed to know.

It took him a long moment to respond, his even, white teeth chewing on his lower lip. "Yes and no," he admitted eventually. "It's really complicated."

"So uncomplicate it for me." I stepped forward and sat down on one of the white, barren branches of the tree, listening to it creak slightly under my weight. "Why do you _have_ to obey Sam? I don't understand at all."

Jacob turned his head to the side; we weren't sitting that far apart. I smiled tentatively and tried to look as inviting and harmless as possible. His face softened - but then, without warning, he jumped off the driftwood and strode away, putting ten feet of distance between us.

I shivered.

"I obey Sam because he's the Alpha," Jacob said angrily as he paced across the rocks. The stones didn't clatter for _him_; when had he become so graceful? "When the Alpha gives an order, we have to do what he says, word for word. Literally _have_ to."

"Alpha?" I repeated. Jacob's restless movements were making me nervous. "What, like a dog?"

Jacob stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, as though he couldn't bear to see what happened next. "No," he whispered. "Like a wolf."

I frowned, waiting for him to say more, to explain. When he didn't open his eyes, I said, "Like a wolf? But what does that-"

And then I got it.

Wolves. Enormous, multi-hued wolves in the meadow. Wolves that frightened a vampire. Giant Quileute boys, growing inches overnight. Sam calling his cult a "pack." Speed that shouldn't be possible, strength that shouldn't be possible, gracefulness that shouldn't be possible, howling in my dreams, intelligent black-brown eyes that stared-

_"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from - the Quileutes, I mean?" he asked._

_"Not really," I admitted._

_"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood - supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive, like Noah and the ark." He smiled then, to show me how little stock he put in the histories. "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves - and that wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them._

_"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower._

_"The cold ones?"_

_"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who make the treaty that kept them off our land." Jacob rolled his eyes._

_"Your great-grandfather?"_

_"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf - well, not the wolf really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."_

There was something stuck in my throat, choking me. I tried to swallow it down, but it was lodged there, unmoving. I tried to spit it out.

"Werewolf," I gasped. The word was strange on my tongue, but as soon as I said it, I felt the _rightness_ of it. I looked up at Jacob, my eyes so wide they hurt. "Werewolf?"

Jacob nodded bleakly.

"All of you? Sam, Embry... all werewolves?"

He nodded again.

The world spun violently beneath my body, and I leaned forward, putting my head between my knees. My vision narrowed down to a dark tunnel. I was vaguely aware of Jacob's voice through the buzzing in my ears, but the meaning of his words didn't register in my brain.

_Werewolves_.

What kind of place _was_ this? It was insane, all of it, completely insane. The myths were _real_ here in this cold, dank, gray and green corner of the country. Forks was home to creatures from fairy tales. Things that went bump in the night. The kinds of horrors that made children beg their parents to check the closet just one more time before bed to make sure they were safe. Monsters.

And I was friends with them.

_Too much too much too much._

"Bella?" Jacob's frantic voice penetrated the fog in my mind. "Bells, honey, c'mon, talk to me-"

My vision cleared a bit. Jacob was crouched in front of me, his eyes searching my face in a panic. "Focus, Bella, tell me what you need," he pleaded.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. I could feel the hysterical laughter just below the surface, but I fought it down. "I'm fine, Jake."

"You don't look fine," he countered stubbornly. "You look like you're gonna puke, or pass out. Or both."

"That would get messy." In spite of my best efforts, a tiny giggle escaped.

Jacob rocked back on his heels. "What's funny?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing at all." I took a deep breath, held the air in my lungs for a moment, then exhaled slowly. It didn't _feel_ like my organs were all there, but they seemed to be functioning nonetheless. "You're a werewolf, that's all."

He winced. "Yeah. I am."

The truth of the situation was seeping in fast, as though I'd always known. Maybe some part of my brain had already half worked it out, and my conscious mind had simply been slow to catch up. "That's... it's just..." I shrugged, and another smile twitched at the corner of my mouth. "It's a little bit weird, Jake."

Jacob blinked in shock. Then a hesitant, answering smile started to form on his lips. "I guess it is, yeah." He studied my expression. "You okay?"

I shrugged ruefully. "I'm okay." Apparently I was just too fractured inside to feel much of anything for long, even shock. "You're lucky; I'm good with weird."

A black cloud passed over Jacob's face, and he stood up with a smooth, abrupt movement. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know you are." It sounded like an accusation.

I narrowed my eyes. "What's _that _supposed to mean?" It seemed a little bit rich that Jacob should be snippy about my acceptance of weird when _he'd_ just admitted to being a giant wolf.

Jacob's face suddenly turned agonized - and I realized I'd phrased my words as a question. He gritted his teeth and started to shudder, but it was too late - his answer came out rough and fast and clearly against his will. "It means," he growled, "anyone who dates a Cullen leech must really get off on _weird_."

I made an involuntary choking noise as vicious, horrible pain stabbed at the edges of the hole in my chest, as though I had swallowed a handful of razor blades. For a moment I was certain I would vomit blood. Through the haze of my anguish, I heard Jacob let out a low moan. "Jesus, it hurts to hurt you," he said miserably. "Even when I don't have a choice about it."

I shook my head, the movement mechanical. "I don't... I don't know what you're talking about." The words sounded weak in my ears as I struggled to force the ripping agony in my chest down to its usual dull ache. I would never be able to focus otherwise.

"Don't bother, Bella. I know all about those bloodsuckers. At least as much as you do. Maybe more."

My head throbbed, and I was starting to really miss Phoenix again. In Phoenix there was just sun and blue skies, and the only real worry you had was that the air-conditioner might die during a heat wave. There wasn't anything supernatural about Arizona. "But I thought you didn't believe in the histories."

"Yeah, well, exploding into a wolf can change your outlook on that sort of thing," he said, sarcasm dripping.

A startling vibration against my thigh saved me from having to respond. I glanced down at the rectangular outline in my jeans pocket, and finally something came to the surface that distracted me from the confusion, the shock, the anger, and the stabbing pain in my chest - horror. "Oh, no, Charlie!"

"Huh?"

I leapt off the tree and pulled out my cell phone, awkwardly pressing the 'Answer' button with my left thumb. "Hi, Dad."

"The lights _and_ the siren, young lady," a voice growled back, not bothering to acknowledge my greeting.

I flinched. "I know. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I was going to call, I just... got distracted."

"Distracted," Charlie huffed. "_Distracted_ is wondering whether or not your daughter has crashed her truck into a tree because she couldn't drive with a cast on."

"I know."

"Or whether she's been kidnapped by some kind of teenage gang."

"I know."

"Or whether she's been dragged off into the forest and eaten by wolves."

"I-" My breath caught.

_The hikers._

I looked up slowly and felt all the blood drain out of my face._ What's wrong?_ Jacob mouthed at me, his eyebrows coming together.

"Bella? Hello?"

"Yeah, Dad," I answered. My voice sounded hollow, even to me. "Don't worry, none of those things happened. I'm with Jacob."

"Good," he said grudgingly. "I have to go in to the station; there's a lot missing person paperwork to sort through. I'll be back by four, though, and I expect you home by then too, understood?"

"Understood. I'll see you tonight." I hoped.

My hand shook so badly as I hung up that I nearly dropped the phone onto the rocks. There had been people disappearing in the woods. People attacked by animals - wolves - people who had vanished without a trace, aside from maybe a little blood. People who were never heard from again.

Jacob was giving me an uncertain look. "Is your dad pissed?"

"A little," I said. "He'll get over it. As long as I don't get 'dragged into the forest and eaten by wolves' like the missing hikers." I used air quotes, watching Jacob's face closely.

The confused expression stayed in place for a moment - until his eyes widened in hurt surprise. "Bells, you don't really think that I would-"

"No, not _you_," I reassured him quickly. The very idea that Jacob could kill someone in cold blood was beyond absurd, werewolf or no. I didn't care what Edward's voice said, Jacob was _not_ dangerous. But he wasn't the only giant wolf in these woods. "I know you wouldn't do something like that, but Sam, I mean, is he-"

"_None_ of us are hurting anyone, Bella," Jacob said. His tone had gone from hurt to insulted. "Sam's a good guy." When I rolled my eyes, he amended, "Okay, he's an interfering dick, but _aside_ from that he's a good guy."

"_You're_ the one who threatened to rip his throat out."

"Only because I thought he broke your arm," he said flatly. "Sam is - _we_ are - trying to protect people. That's what we're designed to do. We're just always a little too late."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's kinda..." Jacob tilted his head, then trailed off into silence. After a long moment he suddenly smiled. "Hey, what time is it?"

I checked the display on my phone. "Twelve-oh-three. Why?"

His smile became a wide, relieved grin. "Whew. I'm off the hook. Sam only said I had to answer your questions _in the morning_. I don't think he's too good at this ordering thing yet, I've been finding a lot of loopholes."

Relief and disappointment flooded my body. Relief, because Jacob was free of the order, and that obviously made him happy; disappointment, because I still had so many questions. A cold breeze came off the beach, and I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. "Will you... tell me some more anyway? Please?"

Jacob ignored my question - after all, he could now - and his smile faded as he noticed my discomfort. "You're cold," he stated unhappily.

I shrugged and held up my right arm. "Couldn't get a jacket on. And it's chilly out, even if it doesn't bother you." I took in his shirtless state jealously. "Wish _I_ could generate that kind of body heat."

"It's a wolf thing."

"Huh. How many wolf things are there?"

Jacob was quiet for a long moment, his expression doing that miserable shifting thing that I hated so much. Like he was at war with something. "Too many," he said finally. He nodded at the path and walked by me, keeping a good six feet of distance between our bodies. "C'mon, let's get you someplace warmer. Your lips are turning blue."

I trotted behind him, stumbling over the rocks while he moved easily and effortlessly. Two weeks ago, Jacob would've followed up an observation about my frozen body temperature by wrapping me into a warm, full hug, probably complete with a little line-blurring stroke of my hair. Now he wasn't so much as holding my hand. I didn't know what was up with this whole no contact thing, but I didn't like it at all; I'd become accustomed to Jacob's touch, and without it I felt... empty. Like there were whole new pieces to my being that had gone missing overnight.

I hadn't even realized there was anything left in me to lose.

It took a few minutes to get back to the truck; Jacob could have made it to the parking lot within seconds, but he had clearly decided to be patient with my clumsy ways. We both climbed into the cab, and I immediately turned on the engine and cranked up the heater, holding my hands in front of the vent.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jacob watching me mutely. The quiet became awkward.

"Okay," I said, more to break the silence than anything else. "So if it's not the pack killing the hikers, what is? Is there really a bear out there after all? It would be better if Charlie shot at the right animal."

"Charlie should stay out of the woods," Jacob said. His voice was worried and serious. "_Everyone_ should, until we've taken care of it."

"It?" I echoed.

Jacob sighed. "Bella, we only protect people from one thing - our one enemy. It's the reason we exist - because they do."

I stared at him blankly for one second before I understood.

_"Werewolves have enemies?"_

_"Only one."_

"Laurent is still here?" This was surprising news. I thought of how I'd seen him dash into the woods, almost faster than the eye could follow. "It looked like you'd chased him off." I decided not to mention how I'd assumed a week ago that Laurent had probably slaughtered the wolves without effort - Jacob would surely take it as an insult.

"Oh, the black-haired leech from the meadow?" He shook his head. "No, we took care of him, no problem. He was pretty strong, but not all that quick. Not as quick as the other one."

"Then who is it?" I whispered, not even daring to hope; if one of the Cullens had come back, no one would be dying. They didn't do things like that. They were good.

Jacob shrugged, facing out the window. "It's not like we have conversations - I've only gotten glimpses of her through the trees. All I know is she's a red-head and she's fast as hell." His hands started to shake as he spoke. He clenched them into tight fists against his thighs. "And she's killing on our land."

She. Red-head. Fast as hell.

"Her name's Victoria," I heard myself say.

Jacob looked up in surprise. "You know her?"

"Yeah," I said distantly. "She's planning to kill me."

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Fight_

_**Sanity Update**: I cave, you hear me? I cave. I lose. I can't do it all. I can't maintain canon, add character development, manage the plot changes, keep the chapters to a reasonably equal length, **and** repair the pacing. One of the balls has to drop, and it's pacing. The pacing is going to remain Meyer-esque, even though that was one of the things I wanted to fix. God help me, it might even be worse than Meyer. But I can't do it. I'm just not that good, I'm not! My life is a lie! *collapses sobbing*_


	5. Fight

_**Disclaimer versus Mothra**: Several parts of this fic are lifted in whole or part from New Moon, which is okay, since I totally own the Twilight Saga. Because I am Stephenie Meyer. Except for the part where neither of those things are true. Really, folks, it ain't mine and my shame would be profound if it was._

* * *

_but i tell you, if i haven't learned it yet / you know i ain't gonna sit / i ain't gonna stay  
Ani DiFranco, "Cradle and All"  
_

* * *

**4. Fight**

* * *

A long silence followed my matter-of-fact pronouncement.

I stared vacantly out the windshield, watching the ocean crash into the sand, contemplating my own death. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, in spite of what Laurent had said. Maybe Victoria would snap my neck and it would be over in a flash.

Maybe it would be peaceful.

"Okay," Jacob finally said, his voice tight. "So the red-head is planning to kill you. Would you like to explain that now?"

"It's kind of a long story," I sighed. I suddenly felt very, very tired. It had been a long couple of days; I was cold and empty inside, completely hollowed out. All I wanted was to curl in a ball under the purple covers of my bed and not come out for a week.

"I have time," Jacob said. I glanced over at him. His face had turned a sickly yellow under his russet skin tone.

"Well," I said, not quite sure how to begin, "you remember when I got hurt last year?"

"Yeah. You fell through a window."

"Not exactly," I admitted. "I was being... hunted. By Victoria's mate, James. He caught me, and Edward-" the emptiness in my chest gave way to a sudden sharp burst of pain "-killed him. So now Victoria's planning to kill me, out of revenge." In spite of my emotions, my voice was surprisingly calm and steady. It almost sounded _normal_, as though I was simply relating some interesting bit of gossip I'd picked up in the school cafeteria, instead of explaining how I'd stumbled into the crossfire of a vampiric game of one-up-manship and vengeance.

My life was not turning out quite as I had expected.

I suddenly noticed, with some degree of alarm, that Jacob was shaking again. His very _shape_ seemed to be blurring around the edges. "Jake?"

"Run, Bella," Edward's voice whispered urgently to me.

I ignored it.

The sickliness had disappeared from Jacob's face; his cheeks were mottled with red flushes, his eyes squeezed shut. "Yeah..." he gasped, panting for breath. "I... and you... but you're okay, right?"

"_I'm_ fine," I said incredulously, watching as his skin visibly crawled. It was one of the strangest things I'd ever seen. "It's _you_ I'm worried about."

Jacob shook his head in sharp little movements. "Don't worry. It's... it's okay," he mumbled, his chest heaving as he took several very deep breaths. A few moments later the shaking slowed. His eyes opened and he quickly looked down at his knees. "Uh... sorry."

"What _was_ that?" I asked, fascinated.

"I was trying not to get too angry," he said. I had the distinct feeling that he was ashamed. I did _not_ like the idea of Jacob being ashamed. "If I lose my temper... I turn into a wolf. And the more I turn into a wolf, the harder it is to keep my temper. It's kind of a vicious cycle."

"Oh. Did I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you angry." Stupid. Of course he wouldn't be thrilled at the idea of a vampire trying to kill someone he knew. "I'll be more careful."

Jacob's eyes snapped to mine, and I almost flinched away from the raw intensity of his expression. "_No,_ Bells, you don't have to be _careful-_ I would _never_- You know I wouldn't do anything to you, right?" He searched my face desperately. "I wouldn't. Not _ever_. You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I believe you." Worry was snaking its way through my body; Jacob wanted me to believe him, but everything about his expression and tone told me he didn't believe _himself_. I ached to pull him into a reassuring hug, but I wasn't sure the bruising around my heart could take it if he pulled away from me again. "I know you wouldn't hurt me. You _told_ me you wouldn't."

Jacob seemed to relax a little at that. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yeah. I trust you, Jacob," I said, hoping he could feel the sincerity of my words. "I trust you more than anyone."

"Even with the wolf thing?"

"Even with the wolf thing."

He relaxed a little more, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders, and gave me a surprisingly shy smile. "You're kind of amazing, Bella," he said.

I felt my skin heat up instantly. "Thanks," I muttered, hoping my blush wasn't too obvious.

Jacob kept looking at me, and his gaze only got warmer. In fact, it started to get hot.

I swallowed. This wasn't good. This was line-blurring again. Jacob felt more for me than I felt for him - no, I corrected myself, he didn't feel _more_, he felt _differently_. He was my best friend, the only person who made me feel like there might be reason to keep moving through a world where I'd lost everything else that mattered. I loved Jacob, I knew that much; I loved him more than anyone else still in my life. But... not like _that. _Not the way I'd loved Edward. Not the way he wanted or deserved.

But I didn't stop him from looking. I really was the most selfish creature on the face of the earth.

After a long moment, Jacob broke his gaze away, studying the dashboard with sudden fascination. "Sorry," he murmured.

"It's fine." I managed a half-smile. "Pin's out of the grenade, right?"

"Something like that," he said darkly. I frowned, but before I could ask him what he meant, he shook his head and became all business. "Okay, so now we know what the red-head wants. This is big. I've got to tell the guys right away."

I dug in my jeans for my phone. "Here, you can use my cell." Jacob barked out a laugh, and I frowned at him. "What?"

"We don't talk by phone, Bells." Jacob looked out the window, scanning the edge of the forest. "Okay. All right. I can call a meeting..." He glanced at me anxiously out of the corner of his eye. "I don't want to leave you alone, though."

"If Victoria was here right now, I'd probably be dead already," I said bleakly.

Jacob growled. "She'd have to go through me first. And I'm not that easy to go through."

I couldn't help but smile at Jacob's words - he sounded so _sure_ - even as I shivered at the thought of him trying to take on Victoria all by himself, without the aid of the other four enormous wolves I'd seen in the meadow. "Okay, Jake."

He shot me a dirty look when he heard the obvious doubt in my voice. "You don't think I can handle one bloodsucker?"

"I'd rather you not try."

"Too bad," he said. "She's killed people. She's trying to kill _you_. I'm going to rip her apart _myself_." His face was dark with barely controlled fury. This wasn't the Jacob I'd known; this was the new wolf Jacob, through and through. The one with the short hair and the temper and the pain. The one who fought vampires.

To my astonishment, I felt a lump form in my throat. I looked down at my hands and fidgeted with the edging of my cast, where the gauze padding met the firm plaster.

"Bella?" Jacob said uncertainly, the fire gone from his voice. "What's wrong?"

I shrugged slightly and attempted to smile. "I don't like the idea of you fighting Victoria, what can I say."

"Bella, I know you like bloodsuckers and all, but once someone decides to kill you the friendship's probably over."

"No, Jake, I'm worried about _you_." I blinked furiously, still picking at my cast. The idea of Jacob seeing me cry again was awful. It would be okay, maybe, if I could sob onto his shoulder - but he probably wouldn't let me near him, so I'd just have to weep while he watched from the other side of the cab. It was a horrifying image. Instead, I tried to joke. "I mean, if she killed you, then _I'd_ have to swear a vendetta against _her_, and I'm not fast or strong and I fall down a lot, so... I doubt I'd be very successful."

"Really? You'd swear a vendetta for me?" I could hear the grin in Jacob's voice. "Wow. No one's ever promised to avenge my death before. That's so cool."

When he said the word 'death' my whole body flushed cold. I turned up the heater with a shaking hand and muttered, "Not funny."

"Sure, sure," he chuckled. "You know, you should really have a little more confidence in us. It's kind of insulting."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. You're the Big Bad Wolf. Forget I said anything."

"That's more like it." Jacob popped open the passenger door and poked his head out of the truck, inhaling deeply. A line appeared between his eyebrows. "Okay. I don't smell her. It's probably safe. Just... stay in here, I'll be back in a minute." Before I could even respond, he jumped out of the cab, slammed the door shut behind him, and sprinted across the lot so fast that I could barely follow him with my eye. He was into the trees and out of sight in less than three seconds.

I took a long, deep breath, then leaned forward to rest my head on the steering wheel.

So. Jacob was a werewolf. A member of a pack of werewolves, in fact. Werewolves who were made to kill vampires. Werewolves, who had killed Laurent. Werewolves, who were determined to kill Victoria. Victoria, who was determined to kill _me_.

I could handle this. Really. But I thought I could handle it all a lot better if Jacob wasn't literally holding me at arm's length.

Sick guilt washed over me. Was _this_ how I'd made him feel when I'd tried to pull my hands away from his? Had he felt this empty and rejected? Was that why he was pushing me away now? If so, I could hardly blame him. I'd _wanted_ him to give up, after all. It was better this way, better that Jacob not waste his time touching a girl who didn't have anything left in her to offer.

Better for _him_, anyway.

I held my hands closer to the heater.

Faster than I would have thought possible, Jacob was climbing back into the truck... buttoning his shorts. I looked away hastily, blushing. "Okay," he said. "We're going to meet Sam and the others at the place we go to ride our bikes."

I blinked. "How do you know?"

Jacob pursed his lips and looked down, absently picking dirt out from under his fingernails.

"You can't tell me?"

"No, I get to tell you anything now; that's kind of how it works. But... this is weird," he warned. "Like, extra weird."

"You don't sprout wings or anything, do you?"

Jacob cracked a smile at that. "No, but that'd be awesome, wouldn't it?"

"Hard to say." As I put the truck into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot, I tried to picture a giant winged wolf flapping through the sky. I didn't have much luck. "So, if it's not wings..."

He sighed. "Okay. So, yeah - uh, when we're in wolf form, we can hear each other's thoughts."

I glanced away from the road in surprise. "What, like telepathy?"

"Sort of. I think if it was telepathy, they'd only hear what I _want_ them to hear, like messages or something. But they hear _everything_ I think, and I hear everything _they_ think, even when we're not anywhere near each other. It's helpful when we hunt, but otherwise, it's awful." Jacob scowled. "I hate it. I hate having people in my head."

"I can imagine," I murmured. I'd always been grateful that I'd been the exception to the rule when it came to Edward's mind-reading abilities. The idea of someone crawling around inside my mind, seeing every horrible, embarrassing little thing that flitted through my brain... I shuddered. "So, is that what you did? Went into the woods, went 'poof', and told them to meet us?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "'Poof'?" he repeated indignantly.

"Well, if not 'poof', then what is it?"

"It's called _phasing_." He shook his head. "'Poof'. Honestly."

"It sounds all right to me," I grumbled.

"It sounds dumb."

"Does not."

"Does so. Anyway, yes, I _phased_ and told the guys to meet us."

A thought occurred to me. "'Us'? So they know I'm coming, then?"

Jacob shrugged. "I didn't say so specifically, but it's not like Sam didn't know I was with you this morning. He's probably assuming you'll be there, yeah. I don't know about the others."

I narrowed my eyes. "Good. I have a few more things I'd like to say to Sam." Most of those things involved words I didn't have a lot of experience using. Dragging Jacob into this nightmare, ordering him around, controlling his life, reading his mind... my blood began to boil again. Maybe if I hit Sam using the cast, it might actually do some damage.

"C'mon, Bells, Sam's all right."

"Right," I said sarcastically. "Sure."

"Really, Bella, don't hate him. He's had a rougher time than any of us. None of this is his fault."

"Then whose fault is it?" I countered.

I was looking at the road, but I could feel Jacob's gaze on my skin. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation... but when he spoke, his voice held that pain that made my chest ache. "You don't want to hear it, and I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. "I promised I wouldn't."

"Well, I'm asking, so you're off the hook. Besides, I pretty much hurt all the time anyway." I forced some casualness into my tone. Just a chest full of gaping, infected wounds - no big deal. "So what's a little more?"

Jacob made a miserable noise at that.

"Come on, Jake," I said, coaxing the truck along the soggy dirt road. "I need to know who to blame or I'll go crazy."

"Fine." His voice was quiet. "It's the Cullens' fault."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"If bloodsuckers move into town, the ones in the tribe with the right genes turn into wolves." If I'd thought I heard bitterness from Jacob before, it was nothing compared to the edged hatred that he exuded now. "I'm this way because of _them_. If it wasn't for those reeking leeches, everything would still be okay."

"I..." I swallowed, then said feebly, "I'm sure they didn't know."

He snorted. "It happened when they moved here the first time, too. They knew. They just didn't give a shit."

"Then they must have forgotten," I insisted. "Carlisle would never have come back if he knew what it would do to you. It must have just... slipped his mind, or something."

That didn't sound right, though. I couldn't imagine _anything_ slipping Carlisle's brilliant mind - but I also couldn't imagine him just not caring about what his family's presence do to the Quileute boys. He was too good for that. _They_ were too good for that. There had to be an explanation, even if I didn't know what it was.

"Sorry," Jacob said sourly, "but that doesn't make me feel much better."

We'd made it to the little turn off where Jacob had first taught me to ride the motorcycle. "Will this work?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's fine."

I pulled over, then looked sideways at him, at the hopeless desolation in his face. As soon as the engine was cut, I let go of the steering wheel and wrapped my arms around my waist, half-convinced that I was going to crumple into disjointed pieces.

Jacob glanced at my midsection, then clenched his hands so hard that his knuckles turned white. "This sucks," he said finally.

His misery stabbed at me. "Can I help?" I asked, unable to get my voice above a whisper. "There has to be _something_. Let me help. I hate seeing you hurt too, you know."

"Would you have before?" he whispered back.

"Huh?"

"Before all this happened." Jacob swallowed hard, deliberately avoiding my gaze. His dark eyes studied the stitching on the seat. "Before I got sick. Would... would it have bothered you? You know, me hurting?"

I gaped at him in astonishment. "What kind of a question is that?" I demanded.

"An important one," he murmured. I opened my mouth to shout at him reassuringly - I wasn't sure quite how that would work, but it was _definitely _what I wanted to do - except Jacob sucked in a sharp breath. "They're here."

My eyes turned to the tree line, trying to make out shapes between the low-hanging pine boughs. A fine mist hovered between the thick brown trunks. It was a perfect horror movie set up, and I felt a tingle of fear run up my spine. "Are you sure? I don't see anything."

"Trust me." Jacob popped open the door and hopped to the ground smoothly, then turned and gave me a small smile. "Come on, Bella, I won't let them bite you, I promise."

I climbed out of the truck hesitantly. This would all be a lot less disturbing if the atmosphere wasn't so... creepy. Why couldn't werewolf meetings be held at a McDonald's? Did they _have_ to be in the middle of a gloom-ridden primordial forest?

Apparently so.

I was expecting it to be the wolves that would come striding out of the trees, so it took my brain a moment to register that the shapes walking onto the road weren't animals; they were just huge, half-naked boys. It unsettled me, watching them move - they walked almost as if they were synchronized, their graceful, even movements matching each other perfectly. They were near the same height, near the same builds, had the same coloring and haircuts and facial expressions. I could hardly tell them apart.

Jacob stood on the other side of the truck, and I glanced over at him as his pack approached. He gave me a small smile, but at the same time, the closer they got, the less... _him_ he seemed. I could practically see the _Jacobness_ bleed out of him.

I felt the sudden need to burn things.

Sam stepped forward, his eyes flicking over Jacob, then me. Jacob had been right - Sam didn't look the least bit surprised by my presence. "Hello, Bella," he said politely.

"Hi," I muttered.

At my tone, Sam's eyes narrowed. He looked back at Jacob, scrutinizing him; Jacob's expression was as sullen as my voice had been. Sam's face suddenly went dark and furious. "You _still_ haven't told her."

"Yes he did!" I shouted angrily in Jacob's defense - at the exact same moment Jacob snapped, "And it's _still_ none of your business."

Without warning, one of the boys I didn't recognize - Jared or Paul - thrust his way past Sam. "What the _fuck_, Jacob!" he yelled, positively quivering with rage. "What, you think you're so much better than Sam and Jared?"

"Leave me out of it, Paul," the other boy said quietly.

Paul ignored him. "So keeping this girl in the dark-" he pointed at me, and I bristled "-is more important than the whole tribe? Than us? You can't even _focus_ while hunting - how about when someone gets killed because you're in pieces over your little leech-lover, will you be happy _then_?"

"Watch your mouth." Jacob's voice was a growl, and a shudder rippled up and down his body.

Sam obviously sensed trouble, because he drew himself up to his full height, every inch of him radiating total authority. "Jacob, _relax_," he commanded, and for a moment, the atmosphere calmed.

Then Paul's eyes lit on me. "If you're such a pussy, how about _I_ just tell her, huh, Jake?" he taunted, and I could see his body was beginning to shake as well. "Hey, sweetheart, ever heard of imprinting?"

That did it. In an instant, Jacob was pelting across the road, straight for Paul. I saw Paul bare his teeth in anticipation, and then-

-both boys _exploded_.

Had I blinked, I would have missed it. One moment, it looked like two teenagers were about to beat the snot out of one another; the next, two gigantic wolves - one red-brown, one gray, and _both_ nearly the size of horses - were rolling over and over across through the dirt, growling viciously and snapping for each others' throats. Dirt and hunks of fur flew everywhere, and the snarls were so ear-splittingly loud that they rattled the branches above our heads and rained pine needles onto the road.

I realized I was running, and that someone was shouting Jacob's name.

"Hold her!" Sam ordered, kicking off his shoes.

Warm arms wrapped around my middle, bringing my forward momentum to a halt with a jolt. "Hey there, Xena," I heard an amused voice say as my feet left the ground. I looked up into the smiling face of Embry Call. "You really don't want to get in the middle of that."

The wolves were carrying their fight into the forest, their roars still echoing. "Take her to Emily's and wait there," Sam shouted over his shoulder as he ran into the woods after the other two. As he disappeared into the trees, I could see the outline of his body blurring.

After a moment the growling and snapping faded, and then there was a sudden, shocking silence.

"Whoa," Jared said. "Cool."

With a laugh, Embry set me back down on the road. "Guess the wolf's out of the bag now."

My knees felt like jelly, but I took a few staggering steps forward. "Jake," I gasped, terror leaving me light-headed. "Jake- he's going to-"

"Be fine," Embry finished for me. He and Jared started searching the ground, picking up white and black scraps of fabric - the remains of Paul and Jacob's clothes. "He's going to be fine, Bella, no worries."

"I dunno," Jared said. "Jacob's all weird in the head right now. I bet Paul gets a chunk out of him. Hey, do you think this can be stitched back together?" He held out the remains of a sneaker for my inspection. The rubber was intact, but the seam had split along the side. "You're a girl, you know that stuff, right?"

"I... I have no idea," I said faintly. "I don't sew."

"Hmm. Well, Emily'll know." Jared tossed the shoe into the flatbed of the truck.

"You can't seriously think," Embry said, "that Jake's gonna lose that fight. Did you _see_ how pissed he was?"

"That's _why _he's going to lose," Jared countered. "I mean, hell, if Paul talked to Kim like that I'd try to tear his head off, but I'd be too mad to think straight."

"Nah. Even mad, Jake's a natural. Ten bucks says he kicks Paul's ass."

"Done."

They shook on it.

"Can't- can't you go get them?" I asked, my blood thundering through my veins. It felt like I was having a heart attack. "_Please_ go get them before they hurt each other-"

Both the boys laughed at that. "Bella, I promise, Paul can't do anything that Jacob can't take," Embry said, shaking his head at what he clearly considered to be my delusional naivete.

"And even if he could, Sam wouldn't let him," Jared said.

Embry tossed the remains of the clothes into the truck. "Okay, we'd better get going. I bet Emily's got lunch."

I shook my head negatively and took a deep, shuddering breath, concentrating on not hyperventilating. Embry rolled his eyes, but Jared gave me an oddly fond smile. "You know, she's actually kind of sweet," Jared declared, like I was a kitten in a pet store. "It could be worse."

"Lot of baggage, though," Embry said. "Would've been easier if it was someone else. No offense, Bella."

"This is the way it was meant to be, though. You can't pick how these things work out. It's fate." A dreamy look came over Jared's face, and Embry made a discreet gagging motion.

As my head started to clear, it occurred to me that I was getting _really _sick of everyone talking in riddles.

Embry examined my face, then held out his hand. "Mind if I drive? You look like you're going to keel over, and if you wound up in a car crash Jake would kill me."

I pulled out my car keys, but held them back. "I'll let you drive if you tell me what the hell you're all talking about," I said. "What do you mean, 'it would be easier if it was someone else'?"

Embry looked uncomfortable. "Uh-"

"And _what_," I demanded, "is imprinting?"

Both Jared and Embry raised their hands at that. "There is _no way_," Embry stated emphatically, "that I'm going there."

"Don't worry, Jacob will crack soon," Jared assured me. "I can't believe he's even held out this long. I told Kim after, like, six hours."

"And a miserable six hours it was," Embry grumbled. "C'mon, Bella, please? I'm starving."

I scowled and tossed him the keys. "Fine. But I'm getting answers, and I'm getting them soon."

"Fine. Answers always go better with food." Embry climbed into the truck. "Let's go."

Jared glanced at me and smiled as he climbed into the flat bed. "Just wait," he said. "It'll work out, you'll see. It always does. This is the way it's supposedto be."

I didn't like the sound of that _at all_.

* * *

**_Coming Soon_**_: Plans_

_**Sanity Update**: Do you have any idea how often Meyer uses "I" and "me" in her writing? A lot. A lot a lot a lot. Even by first person standards. Considering it's embarrassingly obvious that Bella is her avatar, I think we can safely assume that Meyer is the most self-centered writer in history, even accounting for such navel-gazers as Emily Bronte and that dude who writes the Left Behind series._


	6. Plans

_**Disclaimer VII - Adrian's Revenge**: Substantial parts of this fiction continue to be lifted directly from the text of New Moon. I am happy to say, though, that New Moon is in no way mine; if it was, my old English teachers would have dropped dead of shame. Nor am I Stephenie Meyer, whose English teachers are, in fact, presumably deceased._

* * *

_out in the hornet rain / the swarming stingers pumping poison through my veins  
Laura Veirs, "Wide-Eyed, Legless"_

* * *

**5. Plans**

* * *

The truck was relatively quiet as we drove. Embry concentrated on not damaging the poorly synced transmission; I concentrated on not having a panic attack.

"Are you _sure_ Jacob's going to be all right?" I asked fretfully.

Embry rolled his eyes. "For the hundredth time, _yes_. Jeez, you've got to learn to have a little trust. We're werewolves, Bella, we can take a hit. Rapid healing and everything. Even if Jake breaks a few bones, he'll be all right by sundown." He frowned. "He better not, though, I've got ten bucks riding on this."

"Sorry." Sarcasm. "I've only had this information for an hour. I apologize for not understanding all the little ins and outs of werewolfhood yet."

"I guess that's true." He glanced at me sideways, a little smirk on his face. "Well, at least you didn't collapse or anything. Sam said that when he told Emily she passed out cold."

"And who's Emily, exactly?" I figured I had a right to know at least _that_ much, since I was about to enter her home. Maybe she'd be more forthcoming than these cryptic little wolfboys.

I wasn't in a very good mood.

"She's Sam's girlfriend- no, wait, fiancee. He popped the question, like, last month." Embry rolled his eyes again. He was going to damage his retinas if he wasn't careful. "You should have _seen_ him, he didn't stop grinning for a week. It was gross."

"They're really in love, huh?" I felt the holes in my chest - the ones left by Edward, anyway - begin to burn with pain.

If Edward had asked me to marry him, how would I have reacted? Marriage wasn't something that mattered to me. If it was what he had wanted, though, if he had wanted to bind himself to me... but he hadn't.

I shook myself silently. I needed to stop this. There was too much happening right now for me to wallow in grief - no matter how consuming that grief was.

"You have _no_ idea," Embry replied, oblivious to my heartache. "The rest of us have to listen to his thoughts all the time. The second we're off of pack business, it's 'I love her' this and 'She's so wonderful' that. Jared's even worse. And Jake's head doesn't even make _sense_ anymore-" He stopped speaking suddenly and cleared his throat. "Uh, never mind."

I made a disgusted noise and didn't even bother to ask for a clarification I knew I wouldn't get. Stupid werewolves.

Embry drove past the easternmost house on the highway before turning off onto a narrow dirt road. "Your truck is slow," he complained.

"Yeah, well, you'll have to talk to Jacob about that. He's the one that rebuilt it."

He snorted. "Right. I'm really going to tell Jake that something he built is a piece of shit. I _like_ walking straight, thanks."

I gave him an evil glare. "Call my truck a piece of shit again and _I'll_ see to it you don't walk straight." No one got to insult my truck.

Embry just laughed.

At the end of the lane we came to a tiny house with a narrow window and a faded blue door. The front porch was weathered and well-used, and the railing was covered in coffee cans full of potted flowers - marigolds, daisies, daffodils, and a bunch of other plants I didn't recognize spilled across the wooden planks. The result was very home-y.

Embry opened the driver's side door and inhaled deeply. "Oh, thank God. Lunch. I was gonna collapse here in another minute." I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Hey, it takes a lot of calories to morph into a giant dog."

"I suppose that makes sense."

Jared jumped out of the back of the truck and headed for the door, the shredded sneaker in hand. I started to follow, but Embry darted in front of me and blocked my path. "Hey - make sure you don't stare, okay? It bugs Sam."

"Why would I stare?" I asked, frowning; it wasn't like I didn't have any manners.

Embry fidgeted uncomfortably. "Because... well... just, you know, don't." He turned around and bounded up the steps after Jared, leaving me to follow timidly behind.

The front room, like Billy's house, was mostly kitchen. The counters were sparkling clean. A checkered cloth covered a medium-sized table, a vase of more flowers in peak bloom sitting in the center. The delicious smell of chicken and rosemary rose out of the oven, and young, slender woman with long, straight, shiny black hair stood with her back to me, scrubbing out a pot in the sink and humming. She was even wearing an apron.

Oh, no. I was in the home of a domestic goddess.

This was vastly more intimidating than werewolves. I thought briefly about diving under the tablecloth and hiding, but it would probably be noticed. Without so much as a 'hello', Embry strode over to the enormous oven and cracked open the door. "Oh, man, chicken."

With lightning speed, the woman - Emily, surely - whipped a wooden spoon out of the sink and whapped Embry on the head with it. "Stay out of there, you'll release all the heat and then you'll have to wait even longer," she scolded. Her melodic voice was good-natured, though. "I take it you're both hungry?"

"When are we not?"

"Never," she laughed. Then she turned around.

The left half of her face was lovely, with a perfect bow mouth and a dark, almond-shaped eye. But the right side was destroyed; her copper skin was marred from her hairline to her chin by three thick, red lines, livid in color though they were long healed. The scars twisted her features into a disfiguring mask.

I did my best to focus on the left side.

Emily looked slightly confused for a moment, but then her expression lit up, shining with an echo of the beauty that must have once been hers. "Bella Swan?" she guessed.

I nodded hesitantly.

One half of Emily's mouth turned up into a wide smile; the other half remained immobile. "I'm so glad to finally meet you," she said warmly, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "I'm Emily, Sam's im-"

Jared coughed suddenly from his seat at the table. Emily looked over at him, and he shook his head.

Emily blinked, her right eyelid moving half a second slower than her left. It was a disconcerting effect. "_Still?_" she said incredulously.

"Yep," Jared said, shrugging. "I have no idea how he's pulling it off. I would _never_ have thought it would go on this long."

"Well, that's Jacob for you," Emily murmured.

I resisted the urge to stamp my foot on the ground like a girl on TV. "Am I just supposed to _guess_ what you're talking about?" I said, acid dripping from my voice. "Shouldn't I at least get a hint? Can we play charades or something?"

Jared smirked, but Emily at least looked chagrined. "I'm sorry, we're being rude," she apologized. "Would you like to sit? Embry, leave those alone," she added sharply, turning around.

Embry had gotten into a pan of rolls sitting on the counter. They were golden-brown and looked freshly baked. "Mmm h'ngry," he mumbled, mouth full. "Pwease?"

Emily sighed. "Fine, but save some for your brothers." Embry didn't need any more prompting; he pulled the pan off the counter and plopped down at the table, where he and Jared proceeded to tear into the bread like ravenous... well... wolves. "Can I offer you something to drink?" she said, turning back to me.

"Um, water, thanks," I replied, sitting down in one of the rickety wooden chairs, watching the boys eat with morbid fascination.

"Don't worry," Emily said. "They won't choke. And if they did it would teach them a lesson about table manners." She handed me a full glass, and I saw that the scars from her face extended all the way down her arm to the tips of the fingers on her right hand. The tip of her pinky was missing.

"Look at what could happen to you, Bella," Edward's golden voice whispered worriedly into my ear.

I jumped, and water sloshed out of the glass onto the tablecloth. "Oh, sorry," I said quickly, reaching for a napkin, my face burning. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry, it's just water." Emily gave me a strange look as she reached for her dishtowel. "I've got it." She blotted up the spilled liquid, and I glanced at her scars again.

Had a werewolf made those?

Straightening up, Emily looked at the boys with fond exasperation. "Aren't you going to offer some bread to Bella?" she reprimanded, shaking her head. "Didn't your mothers teach you anything?"

Embry and Jared stopped chewing at the same moment, identical looks of contrition on their faces. The effect was priceless, and I bit my lip to keep from giggling.

"Sorry, Bella," Jared said sheepishly. He held out one of the remaining rolls.

"Put butter on it for her first," Emily said, looking pointedly at my incapacitated right arm. Jared obeyed, then reached across the table and set the roll down gently in front of me. "That's better," she said, mollified. "Honestly, you all act more like animals every day. I'm going to have Sam to order you all into charm school."

"_Girl_ stuff," Embry muttered, and fast as a striking snake, Emily whacked him on the head with the wooden spoon again. "All right! We'll be good, we'll be good!"

"I should hope so. I've already broken too many utensils on your thick skull, Embry Call."

This time I couldn't hold back the giggle. I smothered it as quickly as I could with a mouthful of roll, which was warm and, somehow, just as disarming as the coffee cans of flowers. In spite of my nervousness, I could feel myself relaxing. It was difficult to be tense in a kitchen that smelled like roast chicken.

"So," Emily said, returning to the dishes, "how far behind are the others?"

"Depends on how far Paul and Jake rolled into the forest before Sam broke 'em up," Embry said, shrugging.

Emily groaned. "_Please_ tell me Sam took his shoes off before he phased."

"Yep, he was good. They're gonna have to dig up some pants for Jake and Paul before coming here, though."

"Speaking of which, Em, I brought this for you." Jared held up the destroyed sneaker. "Can you fix it?"

Emily took the shoe from his hand, turning it over a few times. "Probably. Do you have the left one too?"

"Uh... no."

She rolled her eyes.

"So I guess you guys go through a lot of clothes?" I asked. In addition to feeling like I ought to offer something to the conversation - it was good manners, and good manners seemed to be important to Emily - I found myself genuinely curious about the mundane details of their supernatural lives. It wasn't every day a person shared a tray of dinner rolls with a bunch of werewolves.

"You have _no_ idea," Jared said, shaking his head. "I'm on my last pair of shorts. After this it's the tuxedo pants I wore to my cousin's wedding. They're blue. _Light_ blue."

"I've got these," said Embry, buttering his sixth roll, "and two pairs of sweats left. It's the shoes I'm hosed on. I had to throw out my last pair of sneakers."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "Throw them out? Why?"

Jared snickered. "Embry was standing downwind when we burned the black-haired bloodsucker. Right in the smoke. He _reeked_."

"Laugh it up," Embry grumbled. "I got rid of everything I was wearing, and I _still_ had to soak in tomato juice for three hours before I could stand myself. My mom is really pissed at me - I can't get the red stains out of the tub."

"Try baking soda," suggested Emily.

My brain felt thick and slow as it tried to assimilate yet another new piece of information. "You... _burned_ Laurent?"

"After he was in pieces." Jared grinned. "That's what you've gotta do - rip 'em apart and light a match. You wouldn't believe how fast they go up, that venom or whatever is better than gasoline."

An image of Edward on a funeral pyre with flames leaping off his perfect marble body and lighting the night sky assualted my senses; the bread in my stomach turned heavy, and I swallowed against the sudden nausea. Emily must have seen the distress in my face, because she snapped, "That's very nice, boys. Can we talk slightly less about dismemberment, now?"

"Oh, come on, it's not like they were friends." Embry turned to me. "You weren't, right?"

"Um, I guess not," I said faintly. "I mean, I knew him, but... he was sort of about to eat me."

Embry smiled at Emily triumphantly. "See?"

"That doesn't make it appropriate dinner conversation."

Embry opened his mouth, but before he could respond, the front door swung open and Sam stepped through. I stole a discreet glance down; his shoes were indeed intact.

"Emily." It was just her name, but so much love saturated Sam's voice that I felt embarrassed, intrusive, like I was spying on an intimately private moment. I watched him cross the room in one huge stride and take her face in his wide hands. He pressed tiny kisses down the line of scars on her right cheek before bringing his mouth to hers.

Embry gave me a significant look, shaking his head. "See what I mean? Gross."

"That reminds me, I need to call Kim when I get home," said Jared thoughtfully. "I haven't seen her since sixth period at school."

"You mean yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Jeez, how _ever_ have you survived?"

"Shut up, Embry."

This was worse than any romantic movie; this was _real_, and the love and joy and peacefulness that radiated out of the couple standing five feet away stung my body. I set the remains of my roll down and wrapped my arms around my chest, the cast digging uncomfortably into my ribs.

Edward had looked at me like that once, the way Sam looked at Emily. And it had been just that perfect - or at least _I_ thought it had been. Maybe I'd just imagined the love in that topaz-colored gaze. Maybe I'd been lying to myself the entire time.

A piercing bell went off, making us all jump. Emily slapped a hand against a wind-up timer on the counter. "All right, scoot," she said, pushing Sam gently away from the oven door, laughing when he refused to budge. "C'mon, how am I supposed to feed your brothers if you don't get out of the way?"

"They'll manage," Sam retorted, smiling as he refused to let Emily out of his embrace.

"Thanks, man," said Embry pitifully. "We're all going to starve because you can't take your hands off the missus for thirty seconds. That's great." He ducked preemptively as Emily reached for her spoon.

"Are you going to finish that?" Jared said, pointing at my roll. I shook my head, more than a little overwhelmed, and in less time than it took to blink the whole thing was in Jared's mouth. "Thak ooo," he said, chewing.

I watched silently as the four of them bantered and joked like family. The amount of physical contact was overwhelming - it seemed like at every moment someone was getting touched, or kissed, or nudged, or whacked with a spoon. It was loud and boisterous and warm and _alive_.

_Too much too much too much._

After a few minutes, the front door swung open again; I turned in my seat to see Paul sniffing the air as he walked in. "Is that chicken?" he demanded, gravitating towards the oven. "It smells like chicken."

"It _would be_ chicken if Sam would get out of the way," Emily said.

Paul looked at Sam, and Sam raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly in my direction. Paul sighed, then turned to me and reluctantly said, "Sorry about before, Bella."

"Um... thanks." I glanced over his gigantic shoulder nervously. There was no sign of Jacob. "Where's Jake?"

Paul snorted. "He's outside sulking."

Jared perked up at that bit of information. "Does that mean you won?"

"Of course." When Sam shook his head, Paul amended, "Well, okay, it was sort of a draw."

Embry and Jared both groaned and started talking at once, trying to get specific details of the fight to make their individual cases for having won the bet. As the noise in the kitchen increased exponentially, I slipped out of my seat and escaped out the front door without anyone except Emily noticing. She raised an eyebrow as I passed, but said nothing.

Once I was out of the din and close contact of the house, I could breathe easier. Jacob sat on the edge of the porch, digging the toe of his shoe into the mud.

I nodded towards his feet. "New sneakers?"

"They're Paul's. Sam made him lend them to me since he was such a dick." He dug the toe in a little deeper. "I don't have any more, and Billy said I'd have to go barefoot if I destroyed one more pair."

"I think Charlie has some old boots," I offered, sitting down on the stoop and pulling my knees to my chest. The afternoon breeze was cool and raised goosebumps on my arms. "I'll see if I can find something for you."

"Thanks."

I studied the forlorn expression on Jacob's face and felt my heart constrict. I didn't want to be part of a world where Jacob Black was sad. It was unthinkable, like the moon falling out of the sky. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Jacob shrugged and held up his left arm - a long gash sliced his forearm from elbow to wrist, but it looked weeks old. I gaped, horrified. "Is that from today?"

"Yeah." He scratched the edge of the wound and winced. "It's no big deal. It'll be gone in a few hours."

"Embry mentioned rapid healing," I murmured.

"Yep. Another wolf thing." The bitterness in his voice was tangible.

I swallowed and wrapped my arms tighter around my legs, hugging myself instead of him; the cast pressed unforgivingly against my right shin. "So, Jake," I said softly, "what is it that haven't you told me?"

Jacob kicked harder at the ground and refused to look up.

"I'm not an idiot," I persisted. "The others are acting like I'm supposed to know something I don't. Something more than just the wolf thing. Sam, Paul, Embry and Jared, even Emily..." I swallowed a second time. "Jake, I know what it's like to have to keep secrets-"

"Not like this, you don't," he muttered.

"-and," I continued, "I don't want you to _have_ to... I mean, I don't want you to be _forced_ to tell me-" my good hand clenched at the thought of Sam issuing another order "-but, I mean... everyone else already knows. They're looking at me funny and talking in circles and... I just want to know." My voice shook on the last few words, and I tried to cover it up with a smile. "After all, I already know you're a werewolf. How much worse can it get?"

It took a long moment, but Jacob finally raised his head to look at me; his brown, almost black eyes raked over my face, and I suddenly felt open and exposed, almost naked in front of him. That pain was back in his face, and the anger, and the something else - the something that looked almost like... _craving._ "It's going to wreck everything, Bells," he warned huskily.

I held his gaze. "I still want to know."

Jacob bit his lip-

-and Embry chose _that moment _to burst through the front door with a clatter. "Dude," he said, "get your mopey ass in here or I'm eating your chicken." And I heard a voice call from inside, "You most certainly are _not!_"

Jacob and I turned to glare at him as one.

Embry took in our expressions and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, fine, _jeez_. Forget I said anything." He backed slowly into the house and let the door swing shut.

This was doing _nothing_ for my mood.

I looked back at Jacob, but he was studying the ground again. "Jake, please-"

"I'll tell you," he interrupted abruptly. "I will. I'll drive you home after this and I'll tell you."

I frowned. "You promise?"

"I promise," Jake said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a sad smile. "Can I just... you know, have some chicken first? I think it'll go better on a full stomach."

"But you promise," I persisted.

"I said I would, didn't I?" he said, but he didn't sound annoyed. He sounded... defeated. I hated it. "Bells, don't worry. I'm pretty sure I _can't_ break a promise to you."

For some reason, dread uncurled in my stomach. It wasn't like I _wanted_ Jacob to start breaking his promises, but the way he said it... "Okay," I said uncertainly, standing up. "We'd better get lunch, then, before Embry eats it."

"Sure, sure."

The scene in the kitchen was chaotic. When Emily had said 'chicken', what she had meant was _chickens_, plural. In fact, it looked like each person had gotten their own individual three pound bird. The table was covered with loose bones and flakes of dried rosemary; the boys were squeezed into the little wooden chairs, finishing off the last of the rolls.

Emily caught Jacob's eye and pointed to the remaining chicken on the counter. "I saved it for you, but you owe me." She held up the broken handle of her wooden spoon, presumably destroyed in the defense of his lunch.

"Thanks, Em." Jacob went straight to the counter and tore off a leg, not even bothering to sit down.

Sighing deeply, Emily reached past Jacob and handed me a sandwich on a china plate. She'd cut it into neat triangles. "Here, I thought you might prefer your chicken in a slightly less messy form. Do you like tomatoes and mayonnaise?" She sounded anxious. "If you don't, I can make something else."

"No, this is great. Thanks." I held the plate awkwardly, not quite sure how to manage with my casted hand.

Emily noticed, and kicked the leg of Embry's chair. "Up," she commanded.

Embry rolled his eyes. "It's always me," he grumbled as he vacated his spot at the table. "Why is it always me?"

"Because you're the biggest pest," Emily retorted as I slid into the chair and started eating with my left hand. The sandwich was perfect, and I suddenly found myself almost as ravenous as the others... almost. I at least managed not to spew bits of food everywhere or talk with my mouth full.

"Yeah, well, wait until Quil starts up - you'll have a new whipping boy then."

The conversations went quiet as everyone looked down. I glanced around at the five nearly identical somber faces. No matter how comfortable they seemed to be with their fate, here in this happy kitchen, none of these boys wanted the same fate for their friend. But I thought of Quil's bitter words in my truck, and wondered if it would really be better for him to remain isolated and excluded from his friends and neighbors.

Being a werewolf had to be awful, but loneliness wasn't much to speak of either.

"Okay," Sam said after a moment. His tone suddenly rang with authority; I was beginning to recognize it as his Alpha Voice. "Now that we know what the red-head wants-"

"We do?" Jared said in surprise.

Sam nodded in my direction, and everyone - _everyone_ - turned to look at me. I swallowed my sandwich and said meekly, "Uh, yeah. Me."

Jared, Embry, and Emily stared at me with open-mouthed surprise. Paul didn't react; he must have heard from Jacob already... or read Jacob's mind.

"How'd you figure that?" Jared's eyes were wide.

"The red-head _is_ trying to avenge her mate," Jacob spoke up, setting down his nearly-finished chicken. "Except it wasn't the black-haired leech we killed. The Cullens got him last year." His face turned stormy. "Now she wants Bella."

Embry shook his head. "Um... okay... why?"

"I guess she figured killing me is the best way to get back at Edward," I explained. "You know... a mate for a mate." I fought to keep the pain in my chest down to a manageable level.

A growl came out of Jacob's throat. I looked up at him in surprise, but he stared resolutely at the opposite wall, not meeting my eyes.

"But that's ridiculous," Jared protested, looking back and forth between Jacob and I. "I mean, you _can't _be the mate of a bloodsucker. That wouldn't make any sense at _all_."

"In _theory_ she isn't," Paul said, narrowing his eyes.

"Nah, she's not." But even Embry was examining me with a touch of suspicion. "Are you?"

The pain in my chest was becoming unbearable, made that much worse by being pinned in place by five sets of scrutinizing eyes; Jacob was the only one not staring at me and waiting expectantly for a response. With a miserable lump in my throat, I shook my head. "No," I whispered. "No, Victoria's got it wrong. I'm not his mate."

After all, I wasn't.

"Now that we know what she's after," Sam continued, thankfully moving the conversation along, "we'll change our patterns. We'll try leaving a few holes, and see if she falls for it. If we can circle around and close a trap, we can end this." Sam turned to me. "If you're willing, Bella, it would be helpful if you spent as much of your time in La Push as possible. We'll be able to catch her much more easily if she stays on our land."

Jacob made another wordless noise of discontent.

"Well, it's spring break for me, but what about Charlie?" I demanded. "What if she doesn't realize I'm here and gets to Forks?" The idea of my father, comfortable and asleep in his recliner, oblivious to a wild, cat-like woman bending toward his throat...

I started to shake.

"Can he be convinced to stay here on the rez too?" Sam persisted. "At Billy's, maybe?"

"I... maybe." I held my cast to my chest so that it wouldn't rattle against the table. "There's some big sports stuff going on, right? A basketball thing?"

"March Madness," Emily supplied.

"Yeah, that. Charlie would probably be willing to watch with Billy and Harry when he's not at work. Particularly if Harry makes fish fry." I couldn't stop shivering.

"We can arrange that."

Jared frowned at me. "Hey, you okay?" Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward and wrapped a warm arm around my shoulders. I instinctively leaned into his body heat, like a cat sprawling next to a radiator. "Wow, you're an icebox, girl."

Jacob glowered at Jared and started to tap a restless beat against the counter top.

"Do you have something to say, Jacob?" Sam said evenly, not turning to look at him.

"Naw, I'm fine." Jacob's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Our brilliant strategy is to dangle Bella as bait in front of a murderous vampire hellbent on revenge. I _love_ this plan."

"Good." Sam's tone clearly said the conversation was over; Jacob ground his teeth and stared at the floor, but said nothing further. Sam glanced at Emily, then flicked his eyes back to me. "Bella, you still need to decide for yourself. Things can get... dangerous around here, get out of hand quickly, and I can't guarantee your saftey. If you'd prefer to stay in Forks, we will certainly protect you there as well. The choice is up to you."

I bit my lip, trying to draw warmth from the heat of Jared's arm still around my shoulders. It helped, but only on the surface. "But you think it will be easier for _you_ if I'm in La Push? That you'll have a better chance of catching Victoria and not... getting hurt?"

"Yes," Sam said frankly.

"Then I'll stay here." There was no question at all. I didn't like this; I didn't like the idea of the people in this room facing down Victoria. I didn't care that they could turn into gigantic wolves. I didn't care that they'd already killed Laurent and come out unscathed. They were still just teenagers, and they were trying to destroy one of the most lethal creatures in existence. I would do anything I could to make them one iota safer.

I glanced over at Jacob.

Anything.

"All right then. We'll start tomorrow." Sam stood up from the table, and the rest of the pack followed suit with a sudden scraping of chairs against the floor. "We have a lot of things to prepare for. Embry, Jacob, I need you to-"

"I'm taking Bella home," Jacob interrupted. "I need to do that first."

Sam closed his mouth and looked at Jacob with that penetrating, too-knowing expression. Whatever he saw there must have satisfied him, because he nodded. "One hour," he cautioned. "Then be back."

Jacob nodded, then fixed a glare on Jared, who removed his arm from my shoulder and stepped back. "Hey, she was cold," Jared said in his defense. "It's not like I was copping a feel or anything."

I blushed.

"Uh-huh." Jacob's voice was short. "Ready to go, Bells?"

"Yeah." I stood up and smiled politely at Emily. "Thank you for lunch, it was really good."

"You're welcome. I hope I'll see you for lunch a lot this week," Emily said, smiling warmly. I nodded and I hoped my confusion wasn't showing; I couldn't figure out why this woman was so excited to be spending time with _me_. I was a total stranger - not to mention an outsider with a history of running with vampires.

Well, I told myself as Jacob and I walked to the truck, she was probably a little bored. It wasn't like there were any other wolf girls to talk to. Of course, that raised a big question: was I a wolf girl now? It was something to ponder for the ride home.

I watched as Jacob started the engine with a shaking hand.

Among other things.

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Gravity_

_**Sanity Update**: True story - while editing this chapter, I hit the following line: "Embry drove past the easternmost house on the highway before turning off onto a narrow dirt road." And I proceeded to flip my shit. "Holy God, what is that? What the hell is an 'easternmost house'? How does Bella know it's the easternmost house? Is easternmost a word? How the fuck did I write that? I don't remember writing that! Where is my brain? What have I become?" Finally, after a full five minutes of total freakout, it occurred to me to go back and check the New Moon text, and sure enough, that line was one of the direct lifts. This means two things: first, I can no longer distinguish my own writing from Meyer's, and second... who the fuck cares what the second is, I CAN NO LONGER DISTINGUISH MY OWN WRITING FROM MEYER'S OH MY FUCKING GOD. (Husband's reaction to freakout: "You know how Dan goes and looks at a lake? Please go look at a lake.") _


	7. Gravity

_**The Dark Disclaimer**: Parts of this chapter are lifted in whole or part from New Moon and Eclipse. Does that make it mine? No, no it does not. Am I Stephenie Meyer? No, no I am not. And I thank God every day._

* * *

_but as always, the thing that he loves he will change  
Tori Amos, "Virginia"_

* * *

**6. Gravity**

* * *

The trip back to Forks was so quiet that I could hear each tiny rattle in the truck's engine. The trees passed by in a blur of evergreen, and the mist clouded the windshield without a single drop of rain falling.

My dread from earlier had expanded into full-fledged alarm. Jacob had already told me that he was a _werewolf_, that he had killed a vampire and intended to kill more, that all his friends were wolves too and they could read each others' minds. What could possibly be so strange after all that? What would he be so terrified to tell me?

Whatever it was, did he think I couldn't handle it? Hadn't I proven that I was pretty good with weird?

Did he not trust me?

Maybe that was it. I scratched around the edge of my cast, feeling the cool skin where an inch of the scar from James remained visible. After all, I'd been the girlfriend of a vampire - though _girlfriend_ was such a blase, hackneyed term for what Edward and I had been. There wasn't a word in any language for what we'd been. And while Edward had cut himself loose from that connection, I still remained, somehow eternally bound to him even though he was free from me.

I could see how Jacob might not want to share many secrets with a girl eternally bound to one of his mortal enemies.

That wasn't right, though; just because I was bound to Edward didn't mean I would be disloyal to Jacob. The very idea was absurd. No matter what the big secret was, I would never, ever betray him. Not to anyone.

_Not even to Edward?_ a little voice in my head asked.

I swallowed hard. It was a pointless question, but that didn't stop the painful sting. Edward wasn't coming back. There would never be any reason for he and Jacob to be at odds. My faithfulness to one would never be stacked against my loyalty to the other.

_But if he wanted to know,_ the little voice egged me on. _Would you tell him?_

My gaze slid away from the window and to my left, to the enormous copper-toned hands gripping the steering wheel. The hands that had held mine more times than I could count, that now flinched away from me whenever I reached for them.

No. I knew wouldn't betray Jacob's secrets. Not even if Edward asked me to.

The realization allowed something rattling loose in my chest to settle and quiet down. The dread faded from my body and replaced itself with resolve. For some reason, Jacob didn't trust me enough anymore to touch me. But he _could _trust me, I knew it - if I would defend him from Edward, then I would certainly defend him from anyone else on the face of the earth. I would just have to show him. I would prove myself trust-_worthy_ in his eyes. Somehow.

I would start by taking whatever this new secret was very, very well.

Faster than I would have thought possible, given the truck's speed limitations, we were pulling into my driveway. The mist was so thick that the outline of the house seemed hazy. There was no sign of the cruiser; Charlie must not have returned from the station yet.

I turned and studied Jacob's face. He stared straight ahead, like he was hoping that the side of the house would give him the strength to do... whatever it was that he had to do. I also had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying to figure out if he could simply jump out of the truck and run away.

I made every effort to be patient, but the time ticked by with agonizing slowness. After five minutes I finally said, "Jake, look-"

"I imprinted on you." The words came out in a rush. "I imprinted on you and I'm sorry and I promise I'm fighting it as hard as I can, but it happened and it's pretty tough to hold off and I didn't want to tell you but maybe Sam's right, maybe it'll be better this way, but I don't think he really knows what he's talking about even if _he_ thinks he does, and it's not your fault or your problem but I swear I'm going to figure something out soon and then things will be like they were before except it might be kind of hard for awhile and the whole thing really sucks."

I blinked.

Jacob finally took a breath, rubbing his hands absently against the steering wheel. "Anyway, yeah. That's it. That's what I didn't tell you."

I waited for a moment for more information, but none seemed forthcoming. "Um, Jacob," I said eventually, "you know I don't know what 'imprinted' means, right?"

He hung his head. "It's one of those wolf things. It's... it shows us who our soul mates are," he whispered.

"Huh? How can anything just _tell_ you who your soul mate is?" I frowned deeply, trying to make sense of what he was saying to me. "I mean, did you get a letter in the mail or something? I don't understand."

"_No one_ actually understands." I could see Jacob's face darkening, even though he was still keeping his focus on the steering wheel. "The legends are stupid and cryptic and in spite of what Sam says, they're open to _lots_ of interpretation. But... yeah. When the imprint happens and you find your soul mate, _believe_ me, you know."

"So... you're sure."

"Yeah," Jacob said softly. "Oh, yeah."

_Soul mates._

I processed this for a few minutes. "Well... okay."

Jacob looked up at me incredulously, and I saw with a stabbing ache that he had been near tears. "What?"

"So we're soul mates," I said slowly. "Is that such a surprise?" It actually made a ton of sense to me, like I was being told something that I already knew. I had always felt such a pull toward Jacob - an instant connection, the sort I'd felt with almost no one. Parts of me were horribly scarred and broken, but around Jacob I always felt whole, like he filled in the missing pieces in my body. Maybe he was filling in the missing pieces in my soul, instead.

I remembered my mother talking to me about soul mates when I was in elementary school; she had been going through one of her more spiritual phases, something that had involved a lot of colored rocks and meditation. She'd declared she had found her soul mate at one of the meetings she was going to, an older woman named Barb who had graying hair and a ready smile. No matter how bizarre their circumstances of coming together, I couldn't deny that they had been the very best of friends. Sisters, practically; they would literally finish each others' sentences. When Barb's job transferred her to Maine, Renee had cried in her room for weeks and I'd lived off of microwaved Spaghetti-Os. She never went back to the meetings.

So maybe Jacob was my Barb. I didn't believe colored rocks and meditation could tell you who your soul mate was, but I was much inclined to trust in these wolf things. And if there truly was a soul, Jacob certainly soothed mine.

And hadn't I felt a claim to him? Like he was my flesh-and-blood brother?

Why was this such a bad thing?

Jacob was shaking his head back and forth in disbelief. "Okay, Bella, I don't think you're getting it."

I raised an eyebrow at the expression on his face. "Then explain it to me."

"It's not... Bella, I mean, people throw around the term 'soul mates' all the time," Jacob said, staring at me like he was trying to burn his words into my brain. "But it's a lot stronger than they mean, okay? It's much, much stronger. It's like... gravity moves. Once you see your imprint, in that instant she becomes the center of your world. Nothing matters more than her. _She's_ the one holding you in place. She's the most important thing, practically the _only_ thing. You would be anything for her. And neither of you get a choice about it." He scowled. "Theoretically. I'm working on that part. It's kind of exhausting, but I'm not going to give up."

The reality of the situation was starting to dawn on me. "It's... not just soul mates," I said slowly, a sick, churning feeling developing inside. "You're talking about love."

He bit his lip and nodded, his eyes still feverishly on mine.

My breath stopped in my lungs._ Now_ I understood that hated look on his face, the one that bled agony and pain and the _something else_. The something else was _love_, consuming and unconditional... combined with the anger that it existed in the first place, and the misery of fighting it. "Oh no," I whispered.

"Yep. You own me." Jacob laughed, his bitterness on full display. "Consider it a late Christmas present."

"But- but I don't want to own you!" I protested vehemently, my voice high and shrill. Jacob flinched as I said it, and I realized how that might be taken. "I mean, it's not that... I don't... I want... you shouldn't be _owned _by anyone!"

"Yeah, well, that's the way it is. Anyway, even if you didn't own me, Sam would."

I felt raging fire starting to burn through my veins. "No. _He_ doesn't get to own you either. Don't talk like that."

"Sorry." Jacob's face was back to miserable. He picked absently at his fingernails. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to be upset when there's not anything you can do about it. I was planning to fight it off before you found out, and then you would never have had to know. That's why I didn't want to tell you."

"No, it's better that you did... I think." I frowned as I recalled part of Jacob's explanation. "What do you mean, you would _be anything_ for me?"

He shrugged, not looking up. "Just what I said. A friend, a sibling... or more. And I'd be happy with whatever you wanted. According to the legends, anyway." Jacob swallowed. "But it's all just theoretical. No one's been told to be a friend. Nobody's imprinted on a girl who's in love with someone else."

Guilt lashed at me.

"Anyway, yeah, it's up to you, I guess. You're the imprintee. You call the shots."

I blinked. "You mean you don't get a say?"

"Don't think so."

Holy crow.

This was a way out, I realized. A way out of the line-blurred mess that I'd somehow stumbled into by not being clear enough with Jacob from the beginning. If the legends were right - which he seemed to doubt - I could just... _tell_ him not to feel _that way_ about me, and he wouldn't. Case closed. He'd be happy doing what I asked of him. I wouldn't have to worry about hurting him anymore. Our relationship would be natural, comfortable, without any of the confusion that had tickled around the edges from the first moment I brought the bikes to his garage.

Four words from me - _Be my brother, Jacob - _and this would all go away.

It was disgusting.

"I don't like it," I said angrily. "It's awful. Something like that just being _forced_ on you? No. I refuse. I won't do it."

Jacob's eyebrows shot up. "You won't?" he said, disbelieving.

"_No_." The surprise in his voice pained me. "I'm not going to order you around. I won't. Not ever. I didn't even like the question thing."

He snorted. "Believe me, I didn't either." Then he gave me a surprisingly shy sideways glance. "You're really not going to tell me what to be?"

"Of course not." I studied him for a long moment, particularly the way his hands were still clenching on the wheel. A strident little voice told me _Don't ask don't ask don't ask_, but the rest of me _needed_ to know. "But, if you don't mind telling me... what do _you_ want, Jacob? If you were the one calling the shots, I mean?"

Jacob hesitated for a very long moment, his knuckles turning white. Then, slowly, he met my eyes again - and _this _time he didn't hold anything back. He let that awful guard down, and I saw _everything_ without the slightest difficulty or effort, right out in the open. It was all there: the longing of a little boy... the adoration of a smitten adolescent... the desire of a grown man. Jacob was naked in front of me, and the raw heat of it seared my body inside and out.

_Too much too much too much._

I had to duck my head, letting my hair fall forward and hide my face. "Oh," I said in a small voice.

"Yeah." There was a long, weary sigh. "I'm so sorry, Bells. Things shouldn't be like this." He took a deep breath, one that I could hear shaking in his lungs. "But I'm going to keep fighting it, I promise. I'll make it go away, and then things can go back to the way they were. Except for the wolf part. I think I'm stuck with that."

"How do you fight it?"

Jacob shrugged unhappily. "I'm kind of making it up as I go. For the first day I tried to think about other things - you know, saying 'I'm at the store right now', rather than 'I'm at the store which is six miles from Bella's house which is where she probably is.' But that didn't work at all, so I decided that I'd better just... not see you." He shuddered. "It's why I stayed away for the last week."

"I missed you," I said softly.

"I know. I missed you too. I missed you _so_ much, Bells, you have no idea... but I thought it would help, that it would make things better."

"Did it?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Made things worse. I couldn't think straight and it was driving the whole pack crazy." He frowned darkly. "That's why Sam _made_ me talk to you. Said it was for the common good. But I think he's just being a jerk."

"I can easily imagine that," I muttered.

Jacob's lips twitched. "Yeah. When I fight this off his brain will explode."

"He said it _couldn't_ be fought," I said, remembering the conversation with Sam from the night before. Had it really only been one day? How could one's entire life change so completely in one day?

Then again, hadn't everything important to me happened in single days? The day I met Edward? The day Edward said he loved me? The day Edward rescued me from James?

The day of my birthday party?

I bit my lip so hard I nearly drew blood. Later, I promised myself. Later I would think about these things and give Edward the time he deserved. But not now.

Jacob was rubbing his thumb against a tiny crack in the leather of the steering wheel. "_Sam_ says it can't be fought," he replied sourly. "But I think maybe he just believes that so he doesn't feel so guilty."

My brow furrowed in confusion for a moment. Then I understood. "Oh. Emily. Emily is Sam's imprint?"

"Yeah. But he was with Leah Clearwater first. They were practically engaged. Then he met Emily - well, he'd met her a couple times before, but this was the first time after he'd started phasing - and he imprinted on her. He dumped Leah that night and was at Emily's door the next day. And now... well, you saw them."

I gaped. "You're _kidding_." I thought of the beautiful girl in Jacob's house on spaghetti night, with the eyelashes like feather dusters, who had been on the phone the entire evening rather than eating with the rest of us. I'd had no idea that she'd been nursing a heartache something like my own. I wondered if there was a hole missing in her chest, too. "Poor Leah."

"It gets worse. Emily's is Leah's cousin, except they were more like sisters. They were best friends. Not anymore, though, obviously."

I was nearly speechless with shock. "How could Emily do that? Just accept Sam after he'd left Leah?"

"Good question," Jacob said bitterly, like he already knew the answer. "That violates about sixty million girl rules, right? Taking your best friend's boyfriend?"

"Definitely." I had almost no experience dating - what Edward and I had done couldn't really be classified as _dating _- but even _I_ knew that that was an absolute violation of every bond of sisterhood.

"And," Jacob persisted, becoming a bit agitated, "does that seem right? I mean, you just met Emily. Does she seem like the kind of person who would do something like that?"

I shook my head slowly. Emily had been sweet, and kind, and extremely friendly. The idea that she would just... this story didn't mesh at all. "It doesn't make sense."

"Exactly. It makes _no_ sense. And Kim - Jared's imprint, he's the only other one who has, except for me - they'd never even spoken. I mean, she had this big crush on him or something, but he'd never noticed her, then one day he looks her in the eye and bam!" He clapped his hands together and I flinched. "He was declaring his eternal love by the end of the school day. And that's how imprinting works for _us_. But, Bells, if some guy you'd never spoken to suddenly said he worshipped the ground you walked on, even if you had a thing for him - wouldn't you think that was weird?"

I tried to think. It was almost impossible to picture, to remember myself the way I'd been then, but... yes, if Edward had told me the day we met that I was his whole life, I probably would have had a heart attack on the spot. "Yeah. It would be pretty bizarre."

"And you'd have freaked out, right?" Jacob persisted.

"Yes..."

"But that's the thing. She _didn't_." Jacob's hands shook against the wheel; whatever he was getting at, it was clearly torturing him. "Maybe she thought it was strange for half a second, but then she was happy as a clam. It was _so_ messed up, Bella, do you get it, even if you said what I wanted to hear it wouldn't _count_, it wouldn't-" His voice cracked, and he turned his face hurriedly towards the driver's side window.

My body went even colder than before as I realized what he meant. "But, Jacob," I said, "it's not... I feel fine, okay? There's no change."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't think there was, would you."

"But there _isn't_," I insisted. "Okay, I'm tired and my hand hurts and this whole thing is giving me a headache, but I haven't- Jacob, _please_ look at me."

I heard a sniffle, and then Jacob turned slowly in the seat to face me. He was dry-eyed but trembling. "I will _never_ say anything to you that I don't feel," I stated unequivocally, placing clear emphasis on each word. "I promise." When he shook his head, I asked, "What can I do to make you believe me?"

"Probably nothing," Jacob said miserably. "We're damned if we do and damned if we don't." I made a noise of frustration, and he amended, "Unless I can fight off the imprint. Which I _will_. I don't know what it'll look like, really, but I'll figure it out, just watch."

"And make yourself crazy in the process?" I said. I glanced at the already nearly healed gash up his arm, the one Paul had left. And Paul hadn't been going for the kill. Jacob was supposed to be fighting Victoria, and if he couldn't focus... he'd only be in greater danger. It was horrible enough to imagine him facing down a vampire, even as a giant wolf, but if he was wasting his energy on this- "It... Jake, it's not worth it if you're putting yourself at risk," I said carefully.

"_Yes_ it is," Jacob snapped. "It can handle it, Bella."

"We can figure out something else, some way to live with it-"

"_Nothing _matters more to me than this. I want it _gone_. Then... I had this plan, and... it'll just be us again, Bells, the way it was. And everything will be fine." He caught the expression on my face, and some of his intensity faded. He said more gently, "Look, I'm already learning, right? I thought staying away would work, but it didn't, and so maybe just, you know, some controlled exposure or something... I mean, yesterday I could barely talk to you, and now we're sitting in the same car, having a conversation, so that's a big step up," he tried to joke. "Maybe next time neither of us will cry."

I blinked back my tears furiously. I didn't want him to feel any worse than he already did. "Jacob, you need to focus on fighting Victoria-"

"I can do both."

"But if you get hurt-"

"I won't."

I raised my chin. "Promise?"

Jacob met my eyes for a moment, then glanced away. He remained silent.

I smiled grimly. "That's what I thought."

"I'll be careful," he said instead. "Don't worry."

"Fat chance of _that_."

"Bella, it'll be-" Jacob cut off abruptly and glanced out the window and down the street, cocking his head to the side. "Your dad's coming," he said. "He's three blocks away."

I blinked. "You can really hear that well?"

Jacob shrugged. "Might be three and a half blocks. I'm still getting a feel for this wolf hearing thing. It's definitely him, though, I'd know that muffler anywhere."

"Are all your senses heightened?" I asked curiously.

"Mostly just sound and smell. And I can see in the dark a lot better."

_Smell_. Of course. Looked like I would be taking three showers a day again. Personal hygiene became a source of severe anxiety when you spent all your time with people who could catch the smallest odor from fifty feet away.

Jacob turned the engine back on; the truck sputtered to life with an asthmatic growl. "I've got to get going, Bells. I'll take the truck, then you can have Charlie bring you down to La Push tomorrow to pick it up. Then we'll get Harry to make fish and you can stay all day." He frowned faintly as he said it, and I knew he was still unhappy with the idea of me being used as bait for Victoria.

"You know you just want to spend quality time with the pickup," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

His sudden, sunny smile warmed me inside and out. "Uh-huh. You think I haven't been listening to those pings? When's the last time you changed the oil?" I winced sheepishly, and he groaned. "Oh, man, I knew it. You're gonna kill my truck."

"I am most certainly not going to kill _my_ truck, thank you."

"Right. Well, when I get a few minutes I'll get under the hood and see what else you've shaken loose." I humphed just for effect, and Jacob's smile turned wistful. "See?" he prodded gently. "See, this is good. It can be like before. It'll be fine, Bella."

I nodded, but couldn't help looking longingly at his hands where they still gripped the wheel. I had never realized how much I had come to depend on the physical aspect of Jacob's presence until now, when it was no longer open to me. "Giving you a goodbye hug is definitely out?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Jacob's knuckles turned white again. "I'm pretty sure that'll make it a hell of a lot harder to fight."

Right now, shivering with cold and desperate to comfort and be comforted, that didn't sound so bad. But it wasn't what Jacob wanted, and as wretchedly selfish, wretchedly _human_ as I might have been, I still refused to take from him anything he didn't actually want to give. "All right," I whispered. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Charlie's police cruiser coming up the street. "You'd better go, Jake, unless you want Charlie to start interrogating you about the activities of Sam Uley's gang." He raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. "I was... kind of upset last night."

"Yeah. Me too." Jacob's face was pained as I opened the door and hopped out of the truck onto the gravel of the driveway. When I met his eyes, they were full of that awfulness that I hated so much - and now I knew _I_ was the cause of it. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bella."

I nodded. "Yeah. Tomorrow." I swallowed. _I'd_ be spending the evening lying around the house, trying not to go out of my mind as I assimilated everything I'd just learned, but _he'd_ be out hunting and who-knew-what-else on Sam's orders. "You'll be careful, right?" I said anxiously. "I mean, doing... whatever it is you'll be doing."

"Sure, sure," he said lightly. "Bye, Bells."

"Bye, Jake."

I stepped back and closed the truck door - just as Charlie parked the cruiser. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as Jacob backed the Chevy out of the driveway, waved, and sped off back towards La Push.

Charlie frowned as the truck passed by, then walked with me towards the house. He looked tired. "Did Jacob Black just steal your car?" he demanded.

I rolled my eyes. "No, Dad. He's keeping it tonight to change the oil." I watched him unlock the front door and added, "Do you mind taking me down there tomorrow to pick it up?"

"Sure, that's fine." Charlie glanced at me suspiciously as he took off his shoes and his gun belt. "You two made up, then?"

"Yeah. Things are okay now. It was... a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding," he repeated skeptically. "So Jacob _isn't_ part of Sam Uley's gang?"

I winced. It was going to be hard to get out of this one. "Well... no. I mean, he is, but it's not really a gang, I guess. They're just... friends."

The skepticism on Charlie's face deepened into downright disbelief. "Friends. Yesterday you were crying your eyes out, and now you're telling me everything is fine?"

"No," I said emphatically. That certainly wasn't a lie - things couldn't be _less_ fine. "I don't like Sam, and I don't like... But I guess Jacob still wants to see me, that's what we talked about, and, well, I figure maybe I can be a positive influence or something. If he's spending time with me, he's not spending time with Sam, right?" I hoped that sounded remotely convincing. To be fair, it was partially true. I _didn't_ like Sam. Maybe it was unfair, but it still felt like this was all his fault, that he'd stolen Jacob away and put him into this miserable position. And if _I _was around, then that was less control Sam had.

Really, all I was leaving out was the part about how they were all transforming into werewolves to keep a murderous vampire at bay - which counted more as a sin of omission than anything else.

"Anyway," I continued hastily, "um, I talked to Billy, and he was thinking maybe when you bring me to get the truck tomorrow, you could stick around and watch that March Madness thing with him and Harry."

He narrowed his eyes. "Really. The last time I spoke to Billy I called him a son of a bitch."

I shrugged. "Well, maybe he wants to make up or something." It was time for the big guns. "He said to tell you Harry's making fish fry."

Charlie studied me for a long moment - I tried to keep my face impassive - then he sighed. "I guess there's not much point in asking my teenage daughter to tell me what's really going on, right?" His question wasn't really a question.

"It's nothing. Really. Besides, it's not like you and Billy have never called each other sons of bitches before, right?"

"That's true," he said grudgingly. "All right. We'll go down tomorrow and see what's what."

"Thanks, Dad." We trudged into the living room together; I was completely exhausted from the day, and Charlie didn't look much better. I felt a pang of guilt as I remembered he'd spent most of the previous night in the ER with me. "How did the hiker thing go?"

"Lots of paperwork," he grumbled, flopping into his recliner and reaching for the remote. "The rangers are out searching for a body, but I don't think they're going to find anything. Animals don't often leave much behind, and a pack of wolves wouldn't leave so much as a scrap. I'll feel a lot better once they've been caught and destroyed."

I shivered. After seeing the way Jacob's arm healed, I wasn't so worried about hunters could do to him, but still... "Maybe the wolves aren't the ones doing it." When Charlie turned in his chair to face me incredulously, I added in a weak tone, "I mean, they didn't attack me when I saw them, so... maybe these are good wolves."

Charlie stared at me in disbelief for a full five seconds, then demanded, "Have you been drinking?"

"No!"

He shook his head and turned back to the television, muttering under his breath about 'good wolves.'

Well, it had been worth a shot.

* * *

I spent the evening watching basketball with Charlie, to his thorough surprise and gruff pleasure. It was a bit boring - another game that seemed to be comprised of running from side to side with a ball, and this one didn't even involve hitting each other with sticks. But I had to admit, there was something relaxing about watching other people exert themselves. For a few hours I didn't think much about vampires, or werewolves, or vendettas, or imprints. By the end of the game, I even felt something closer to balanced.

But I couldn't sleep. Even after having a few swigs of cough syrup, I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to relax and failing entirely. In the dark it was so much harder to not obsess over everything.

My best friend was a werewolf and in love with me against his will.

A vampire was trying to break through a line of teenage boys to revenge herself on my ex-boyfriend by taking my life.

My chest was full of holes and hurt all the time.

Oh, and I was going to be acting as bait.

It didn't surprise me very much when, at that thought, I heard Edward's angry voice. "Don't do this, Bella. Do not put yourself in harm's way. Be safe."

_But I can help,_ I countered silently, rolling onto my back and cradling my cast. _It's the only thing I **can **do._

"It isn't worth the risk, Bella."

_Yes it is._ _This whole mess is my fault. Victoria is hunting **me**. They're putting themselves in danger because of __**me**. I have to do **something**_.

"They are _werewolves_," Edward's honeyed tones persisted. "Immature, volatile werewolves."

_Don't_. I was talking to myself, to a figment of my imagination, to a shadow that wasn't really there, that _couldn't_ be there - and I was getting angry all the same. _Don't talk about them like that._

"Look at Emily, Bella."

_Stop it._

"He's the worst thing out there besides Victoria herself."

Fury lashed through me, white and flaming. _Don't **ever **compare Jacob to her. Not **ever**._

"Leave them to each other, Bella. Protect yourself. For me. Please."

"Shut up," I hissed aloud. My head spun sickeningly from exhaustion and the cough syrup. "You don't know what you're talking about, so just _shut the hell up_ _and leave me alone_." I rolled onto my side and curled into a fetal position, pulling a pillow to my chest and hugging it tightly.

It only took a few moments to realize what I'd thoughtlessly done.

I'd sent Edward away.

Panic rose in my body and the gaping, open wound that was exclusively his started to stab violently at me, agonizing pain lancing at me with every heartbeat. I sat up in bed, looking around as though I would see him, even though I knew I wouldn't. _I'm sorry,_ I begged silently. _I didn't mean it. Please don't go away. _

Edward's voice was silent.

My breath left my chest as my lungs ceased functioning. _Please, please, I take it back, I'm sorry, I love you, please, don't leave me again!_ Hot tears coursed down my cheeks and dripped onto my purple comforter. I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest, trying to hold myself in one piece. The wounds burned as freshly as the day they were created.

He didn't respond.

I cried, and didn't stop. I _couldn't_ stop. I rocked back and forth on the bed for what felt like hours, the misery coming from a seemingly bottomless well around my heart. At least the tears fell silently, so I wasn't disturbing Charlie with my grief.

Hours later, lying prone on the bed, curled in a freezing ball, I heard the faintest noise in the distance. A howl. And then, finally, I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Cold_

_**Sanity Update**: Earlier this week, I realized that I was going to have to rework substantial portions of the second half of this fic. My despair, it was great, as was my migraine (and later, hangover). Then I had a caffeinated Eureka! moment at seven in the morning, leading me to bounce excitedly into the bedroom, scaring the cats and waking my husband from a very pleasant sleep, explaining to him at a coffee-fueled mile a minute rate what I'd just figured out. (Before long, the Sanity Updates will be his.) Regardless, reworkings may necessitate a delay of updates sometime soon (not yet, but soon). I shall try to muscle through it and keep up the bi-weekly pace, but I just wanted to give out a heads-up. The delay at least would come from a positive "This part makes sense to me now!" place, as opposed to a negative "That's it, bring me the cyanide tablets" place._


	8. Cold

_**Disclaimer Season 17**: While significant portions of this fic are lifted directly from the Twilight Saga, said saga does not belong to me. If it did, I'd probably feel less urge to burn it and then stomp on the ashes. Also, I am not Stephenie Meyer - my shoes are far too fabulous.  
_

* * *

_sometimes the thought comes to my mind / that i myself will drown  
Crooked Still, "Sometimes in This Country"_

* * *

**7. Cold**

* * *

The drive down to La Push the next morning was silent. Charlie, I suspected, was still nervous and not a little confused by the situation's sudden about-face. Not talkative under the best of circumstances, he didn't so much as mutter under his breath.

I was mostly quiet because I still had so much to process. The few hours of sleep I had managed to grab didn't do much to help me deal with the new circumstances I found myself in. Jacob was a werewolf; we were bonded for life unless he could get out of it without driving himself to insanity; the Quileute tribe and the Cold Ones were locked in a generational battle of ancient enmity; my last connection to Edward was gone.

Still, what right did I have to complain, really? All _I_ had to do was assimilate the information - and then sit still while everyone else put themselves in danger and did all the work.

I _really _hated it.

Jacob was waiting on the front steps when we pulled up. He leapt to his feet almost the moment the engine of the cruiser was cut, but the movement wasn't as quick as I knew it could have been; in fact, he looked exhausted. I suddenly realized that Sam had to have the pack chasing Victoria at night, as well as during the day - so when had Jacob last slept?

Charlie narrowed his eyes as he unbuckled his seat belt. "Why isn't that kid wearing a shirt?"

I could hardly say, 'Because he's trying to save his clothes,' so I tried to think of an excuse as fast as I could - and the one that came out of my mouth was: "Well, _look _at him."

Silence.

My face turned so red I was surprised I didn't burst a blood vessel.

After a long, horrifying moment, Charlie finally said, "Um... yeah."

I nodded and jumped out of the cruiser so fast I twisted my ankle on the ground. There was something wrong with my brain. I needed more sleep, or a vacation to a quiet tropical island, or a straitjacket, or _something._

Jacob gave a tiny wave to my father as he walked up. "Hi, Charlie," he said, but his eyes were on me, taking quick glances over my face and my body. My blush deepened. I supposed I'd have to get used to Jacob looking at me like that after we'd been apart, even if it was only for sixteen hours.

It probably didn't take a chief of police to notice that something was very different; Charlie glanced between Jacob and I a few times before slamming the car door shut. "Decided to cut your hair?" he said abruptly, his eyes hard.

Jacob flinched and reached up for a ponytail that was no longer there. "It's more convenient," he replied.

Charlie made a gruff noise, still eyeing Jacob suspiciously. I mentally kicked myself for flying off the handle so badly the other day and convincing Charlie there was a dangerous gang down on the reservation that was sucking in innocent boys and turning them into cultists. Even if it wasn't entirely inaccurate.

Luckily, at that moment, Billy rolled into the doorway of the little house. "Charlie!" he called, as though they had never had a harsh word between them. "The pregame coverage is starting!"

There was a long pause, as Charlie looked up at Billy, then back to Jacob, a deep frown on his face. Finally he gave the smallest of shrugs - essentially saying that he didn't know what the hell was going on but would let it go... but only for now. "All right," he called back, then turned to Jacob. "Where are you kids going?"

"The beach," Jacob answered immediately. "Since the weather's nice."

"Right," Charlie said. He scratched the back of his neck, then glanced at me. "Um... don't fall into anything."

"I won't."

"Charlie!" Billy called again. "I'm going to eat your fish fry!"

That did it. With one more glance between us, Charlie turned and walked reluctantly into the Blacks' house. I could hear he and Billy chatting about which team had the better forward - or something like that - as the door closed.

Jacob raised an eyebrow at me. "He's suspicious."

"You think?" I grumbled. I opened the door of the truck; Jacob was already climbing in the passenger's side. "So, what's at the beach?"

"Nothing. I didn't think your dad wanted to hear you were spending the day with Sam Uley's fiancee."

"I'm going to Emily's?" I blinked as I started the engine - it purred like a contented kitten. "Wow, I guess it really _did_ need an oil change."

"Yeah, it did. There was _sludge_ in there, Bells. Every three thousand miles, okay? Please?"

"Fine, fine." The sun was beginning to peek through the clouds as I pulled out of Jacob's front yard and started down the road; it was nearly eleven, and it looked like the early morning haze might burn off by lunchtime. "So, why Emily's?"

Jacob shrugged, avoiding my eyes. "It's sort of our base of operation. We all know the area around her place really well, so if we needed to get back in a hurry, there wouldn't be any surprises." His expression darkened slightly. "And you'll be safer there, trust me."

"Okay..." I swallowed back my objections. They were petty, anyway. I didn't _know_ Emily, and I would have much preferred to spend the day quietly hovering in the Blacks' kitchen than making small talk with a woman with whom I had nothing in common - aside from being an imprint.

A piece of the puzzle clicked into place with a jolt. "That's why Emily was being so nice, wasn't it? Because I'm an imprint too?"

Jacob snorted, still looking out the window. "Emily's nice to _everyone_... but, yeah, probably. She's been telling me all week to bring you by just as soon as you knew. Like it's something to celebrate instead of..." He trailed off, shaking his head bitterly. "Anyway. I think she's pretty lonely. It's not like she can talk about this stuff with just anyone."

I frowned. "But what about Jared's girlfriend? Doesn't she know everything?"

"Yeah, but Kim doesn't come around much, and when she does she never talks. Most everything I know about her comes from what's in Jared's head. And it's nothing I _want_ to know." He made a face.

"What do you mean, what's in Jared's..." My eyes widened. The pack could read each others' minds while in wolf form. They'd know things - _private_ things - "Holy crow, you mean you've seen her and Jared-"

"Yep. I don't know what Kim's _like_," Jacob said dryly, "but I can tell you what she _likes_."

"That is really wrong."

"No kidding." He sighed. "I guess I'll get used to this whole having-people-inside-my-head thing soon enough."

I rubbed my thumb against a rough spot on the steering wheel. "I wish you didn't have to."

"Me too."

The trip didn't take very long; the road to Emily's was drier today, and the newly tuned-up truck didn't protest as much when I tried to coax it along at a reasonable pace. As we pulled up out front, Sam appeared on the porch, arms crossed over his massive chest.

"I thought she'd be staying at Billy's?" Sam said as way of greeting, walking forward.

I frowned and glanced at Jacob. He slammed the truck door shut. "Emily's been asking me to bring her over," he replied coolly. "Why? Since Bella's going to be _perfectly safe_, what difference does it make _where_ she is?"

A muscle in Sam's jaw twitched visibly, and his eyes flicked towards the front door of the house.

Jacob smiled in grim satisfaction.

After a long, silent moment, Sam seemed to relent. His shoulders drooped slightly before turning to me and saying, "Emily's out back. We'll be coming in and out during the day. You _will_ be perfectly safe-" Sam shot a short but vicious glare at Jacob "-but still, don't go wandering off or anything."

I glanced at the edge of the forest, where the clearing around Emily's little house transformed abruptly into enormous pines and prehistoric flora. "How will Victoria know I'm here? Shouldn't I be, I don't know, jumping up and down and waving or something?"

"_Please_ don't," Jacob said quickly.

"She'll know," Sam added. "Trust me. This bloodsucker's smart." His eyes flicked towards the front door again, and something hardened in his face. "Anyway, we should get going. I'm going to say goodbye. Jake, get ready." He trotted around the side of the house, presumably towards the garden.

The second he was out of sight I turned to Jacob and crossed my arms. "Okay, what was _that_ about?"

Jacob shrugged. "I'd just rather Sam not take any chances. He won't if you're _here_."

"With Emily, you mean."

"Yeah." He sighed, the stony look on his face fading slightly. "Look, it's not like I think Sam's being deliberately reckless or anything, but he'll think about it differently if you're here instead of someplace else on the rez. He'll _have_ to. And besides," he muttered, "why should I be the only one freaking out?"

I didn't like the sound of that at _all_. "Jake, don't... don't worry too much," I said gently, wishing for about the hundredth time that I could just wrap him in a hug and squeeze the stress out of him. "_I'm_ not the one out chasing a vampire through the forest, you know. The biggest danger I'm in is that I'll trip and fall into a blackberry bush."

Jacob snickered at that. "With your luck the thorns'll pierce an artery."

"Probably." I bit my lip, studying Jacob's face anxiously - the familiar features with their new unfamiliar angles, the dark circles under his eyes, the now ever-present look of struggling intensity that appeared when he took me in - and whispered, "Really, though, you'll be careful, right? I don't... I wouldn't take it very well if something happened to you, you know."

He smiled in response - a slightly ironic smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Well, I wouldn't take if very well if something happened to _you_, so we'll just agree not to let anything happen to either of us."

"Sounds good."

"I'll dodge the leech's fangs and you stay out of the blackberry bushes, okay?"

"Okay."

I felt like we should shake on it, but that obviously wasn't an option.

A piercing whistle sounded across the clearing; Jacob and I both turned to see Sam at the forest's edge, motioning impatiently. Jacob shrugged. "Okay, gotta run. Bye, Bells."

"Bye, Jake." I stood watching as Jacob jogged away and disappeared into the woods after Sam, a curious weight settling onto my shoulders. They were risking their lives - _he_ was risking his life - and it was all my fault.

If something happened...

I shook myself. I could sit here and make myself sick with worry, or I could go make awkward small talk with the other wolf girl. Though if I was being honest with myself, I admitted as I walked down the little stone path on the side of the house, I was perfectly capable of doing both at once.

Emily's garden was _exactly_ what I expected - a small square nestled against the back of the house, delineated into six sections by red brick borders, separated from the rest of the clearing by pine picket fence. Four apple trees, just beginning to bloom, stood straight and tall along the back border.

Emily herself knelt in the middle of one of the plots, worn gardening gloves on her hands, pulling up weeds. She'd clearly been at it for awhile; two of the sections were already nothing but thick, dark soil. She looked up from her work and grinned at me with the half of her mouth that worked. "Hi, Bella!" she called cheerfully as she yanked another thistle out of the earth, leaving healthy-looking smudges of dirt along her caramel arms.

The scene was _just_ imperfect enough to be perfect. Like the day before in her kitchen, I felt the need to slink away before getting called out on my domestic inferiority. I couldn't garden to save my life. Houseplants turned brown and brittle in my care. "Hey," I responded, picking my way awkwardly along the path. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh, loads," she said, tossing the thistle onto a knee-high pile of wilted plants and dead leaves. "If you don't mind, that is. I'm way behind. I should've had this done after the last frost, but things just got away from me." She shrugged helplessly, as though things got away from her all the time. Thinking of her spotless kitchen, I was hard-pressed not to scoff. "There's another set of gloves on the stoop, if you'd like to use them. These things can get a bit thorny."

I immediately picked up a glove and pulled the thick, protective cloth over my left hand awkwardly. Jacob was right; with my luck, I'd slit my wrists on the thorns. "Are these all weeds?" I asked, gesturing at the patches that were still overgrown.

"Yep," Emily said, wiping sweat from her forehead and leaving a streak of dirt behind. "I never bother with perennials, they make things too complicated. So no worries, just pull up whatever's there." She looked up suddenly, her eyes wide and anxious. "If you want, that is. You really don't have to. I'm sorry, I'm being terribly rude. The TV is inside, and there's some muffins on the stove-"

"No, no," I assured her, crouching down next to a particularly large patch of weeds. "I can help. This is good. It's better than sitting still." If I sat still I would start thinking about what was happening, and if I started thinking about what was happening I would lose my mind. What was left of it, anyway.

Emily smiled like she understood. "Yeah, it is." She studied me for a moment as I struggled with the first thistle, then said, "Are you cold?" Her tone was carefully neutral.

"I'm always cold," I grumbled, pulling one-handed at the spiky leaves. The roots wouldn't give an inch. "I can't get on any sleeves over this stupid cast." My cheeks heated slightly as I said the words - I wondered whether or not Emily knew I'd broken my hand on her fiance's face. She probably wouldn't like that very much.

Emily pursed her lips thoughtfully, then jumped to her feet, brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Wait just a second," she said, bounding past me into the house in a few quick, graceful movements.

I yanked harder on the weed, but all that happened was that my shoulder began to ache.

A few minutes later, Emily emerged from the back door, holding a purple garment in her hands and looking triumphant. "Okay, stand up, let's see if this will do." She held up the violet fabric - a hoodie - and nodded as I stood awkwardly. "It should be fine. It'll be a little loose on you, but that doesn't matter too much. Hold out your arms."

I hesitated, then spread my arms like an six-year-old girl being dressed by her mother. An ache burned at my chest; this was too similar to when Alice had dressed me like a doll after I'd broken my leg, pulling silk skirts and designer blouses onto my body; when I'd complained that they surely had to cost more than my entire wardrobe combined, she'd waived me off with a tinkling, bell-like laugh and said I'd get used to them soon. She somehow managed to make me look like I belonged in those clothes, even though I knew - we both knew, even though Alice was too kind and sweet to say it - that I was a fraud. Clothes like that belonged on someone on Alice, or Rosalie, or Esme. They didn't make any sense on _me_.

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked them back before Emily could see them.

Emily gently pulled the hoodie onto my torso, zipping up the front. "Sorry," she apologized, misreading the expression on my face, "I always felt patronized when people did this for me, too. But it's tricky to work the buttons without help." It was then that I noticed the right sleeve of the hoodie was split from the neck to the wrist. Pretty pewter buttons lined the seam, and Emily did them up with quick and skillful fingers. The right sleeve was significantly wider than the left, and it encompassed my cast easily. "There," she said with satisfaction, admiring her handiwork. "That should work, don't you think?"

I looked down at myself. The hoodie was loose in the chest and towards my hips - Emily had a gorgeous hourglass shape, as opposed to my slight and unimpressive curves - but aside from that, it worked perfectly. The buttons even looked stylish. "This is great. Where did you find it?"

"My sister-in-law made it for me when, well..." She gestured at her own right arm and the livid red scars that cut through her flesh. "I had some trouble with sleeves too. Are you a little warmer?"

"Yes," I lied quickly. I wasn't - the frigidness seemed to come from _inside_ me - but I couldn't bring myself to wipe away the happy half-formed smile that brought that echo of lost beauty to Emily's face. And the long sleeves kept the breeze and damp off my skin, at least. "Thank you. Really."

"You're welcome. You can keep it for as long as you want."

"Thank you," I said again.

"And you can bring it back any time," Emily added quickly. "You're always welcome here."

"Okay. I'll remember that." With another happy smile, Emily returned to her plot of the garden and resumed her work, the weeds coming up efficiently in her hands. I watched enviously, kneeling back to pull on the stubborn thistle that refused to budge. The buttons on my sleeve caught the few rays of sun and they shone modestly but prettily.

Being indefinitely loaned an article of clothing made personally for you by a family member - I wasn't insensitive to the kindness of such a gesture. Especially to a near-stranger. Jacob was right - Emily was lonely.

I knew what loneliness felt like.

Still, to a certain extent, hadn't she brought it on herself? She'd taken her cousin's - her sister's - her _best friend's_ lover without a second thought. Maybe the imprint hadn't been her fault, but she didn't _have_ to say yes to Sam, especially when she had to have known what it would do to Leah. What sort of woman did a thing like that? How could she have made that decision? Was it the _soul mate_ thing? I didn't understand... but I wanted to.

So I said, "Yeah. Um. Imprinting."

Subtle.

Emily looked up at me, heaving an obvious sigh of relief. "Oh, _good_. Jacob finally told you. I thought he probably had, but no one said anything."

"Yeah, he told me." And it was awful. "It's... kind of weird."

"It's _very _weird," Emily said with a small smile. "But don't worry, you'll get used to it quicker than you think. After awhile, it's really not that different than any other relationship, just _surer_, without all the extra uncertainty-"

"No, no," I interrupted, blushing. This needed to be cleared up right away. "There's no relationship. We're not together."

She blinked, her left eye widening with surprise. Her right eye didn't move; apparently it didn't have that much control. "Really? You're just going to be friends? The legends say that can work, but I've never heard of it actually happening..."

"Well... no. I mean, I didn't just _tell_ him to be my friend." I fidgeted awkwardly. How could I possibly explain this? "I didn't... I couldn't do that to him, just force something like that, but I can't... I don't know. Besides, Jake doesn't want this. He's trying to get rid of it."

Her eye widened even more. "He's going to _keep fighting the imprint?_"

"Jacob's stubborn." As frustrating as it could be, it was one of the things I admired most about him. Jacob was persistent. He didn't go to birthday parties he didn't want, or risk his life to hear voices, or close himself off for months when things hurt too much. He never just... gave in. He kept going. Jacob wasn't weak, the way I was.

If Emily knew what I was thinking, she didn't say anything. Instead she glanced down at my hands and said gently, "You're trying too hard. It won't work if you yank. Just pull steadily, close to the ground, and don't let up."

I frowned, then wrapped my left hand lower on the stalk and pulled. The thistle came up irritatingly easily.

Emily smiled. "There you go. Just like that."

* * *

Three hours later, the garden was cleared of unwelcome botanicals and we had an enormous pile of yard waste to show for our effort. Emily said it would make for an excellent bonfire in a few days, and declared it to be lunchtime.

I sat quietly in the kitchen, watching in awe as she whipped up an enormous meal of egg salad, tuna fish sandwiches, and four trays of walnut brownies - just in case the boys showed up to eat her out of house and home, which she said could happen at any time and with absolutely no warning. In spite of her complaining, it was easy to see she didn't mind taking care of them. I offered several at several points to help with, well, _something_, but she waved me off each time, saying that a morning of weeding was well above and beyond the call of duty for a guest.

The lack of distraction wasn't a good thing; I would rather have been doing something with my hands. Instead, as I waited and listened to Emily's cheerful chatter, my eyes kept going involuntarily to the front door. Shouldn't someone have come for food by now? Or come back at all? What if Victoria had killed them? What if I was waiting at a kitchen table and Jacob was bleeding to death in the woods?

Emily eventually noticed my preoccupation, but all she said was, "I'm sure they're fine. We'd know if they weren't."

I blinked. "Really?"

"Really." She set down the bowl of egg salad and wiped her hands on her apron. "Once Sam tumbled off the edge of a cliff and broke his leg - paw, I guess. I could tell something was wrong. Not what, of course, just a bad feeling."

"I'm having bad feelings all the time," I grumbled.

"Trust me, it's not the same thing. And he'd know if there was something wrong with you too. One day Jared was here having dinner, and Kim was in a car accident. Just a little fender bender, but he nearly phased before he was even out the door. Of course," she added, "that's Jared. He's a little... um... _different_."

She toasted the bread for my tuna fish sandwich and served it with a homemade dill pickle. I quietly vowed not to cook for her until I'd memorized at least six more recipe books.

Emily watched me eat, not bothering to disguise her satisfaction. "I'm really glad you're here," she said happily.

"I'm glad to be here," I said, slightly muffled by a mouthful of sandwich. In spite of the lingering awkwardness, it was true. It wasn't hard to be with Emily. "We're both wolf girls now, right?"

She beamed. "Exactly."

"You could talk to Kim though, couldn't you?" I was becoming steadily more curious about the mystery person who shared our wolf girl status. "I mean, didn't Jared tell her about about all this stuff?" I couldn't imagine how he could explain his sudden devotion without discussing the imprint - and the small attendant issue of him being a werewolf.

Emily shook her head as she pulled a checkered dishcloth out of the sink and started to wipe down the counter. "Kim's a nice girl, but she's fifteen, and I'm twenty-one. We don't have much in common."

"She's _fifteen?_" I felt my eyebrows shoot up. "That's... really young." The idea of being in the sort of intense relationship that imprinting clearly inspired - demanded, really - at that age was difficult to comprehend.

"Jared's seventeen. Two years age difference isn't very much," she said, "especially in the long-term."

Her words hit a little close to home. "I think two years is pretty significant," I muttered. Jacob was two years younger than me; that was a lot. In six months I'd be two years older than Edward. _That_ was even more. Not that it mattered... even the last vestiges of Edward were gone now.

The ache throbbed again, but at least it didn't stab.

"What about other girlfriends?" I said, more to distract myself than anything else. "I mean, you wouldn't be able to tell them _everything_, I guess, but maybe just that Sam has a really dangerous job and you worry about him a lot-"

But Emily was shrugging, a rueful, sad smile on her face. "I... don't really have any girlfriends anymore." At my disbelieving look - how could anyone as open and warm as Emily not have friends? - she explained, "After... well, after Sam and I got together, everyone else thought we must have been cheating for a long time, so..." She shrugged, then gestured at her face. "And it's a little hard to make _new_ friends when you look like this."

Sympathy squeezed my heart. In spite of the circumstances of the beginning of her relationship, ostracization was a hard price to pay. Not to mention the scars... "Could you do something about them?" I said slowly, fully aware that I was treading into an awkward area. "Surgery, or something?"

Emily shook her head. "I could, but it's pretty expensive. Besides..." She looked away for a moment, biting her lip pensively. I saw for the first time that her even, white teeth weren't perfect - she was missing a right molar. "I know it hurts Sam to look at them," she said finally. "But it would be much worse if he thought they bothered _me_. He'd move heaven and earth to get me the surgery if I said I wanted it, but then he'd think the scars made me unhappy, and that would kill him."

The implication was clear - _Sam_ had been responsible for the injury. I tried to suppress my shudder. "_Do_ they bother you?"

Emily seemed to come back from where ever she'd been as she smiled. "Not as much as they used to. Besides, there's a certain... karmic balance to it. I'm so happy in every other respect. Too much perfection isn't good for a person."

"I guess." I thought about the perfection that had once been mine to hold - or so I'd thought - and wasn't quite sure I believed her. But then... that perfection had caused a lot of damage. It had left me broken and full of holes.

Maybe she had a point.

Once my sandwich was finished, the restless night and exertion of the morning began to catch up with me. My eyes started to droop. I was in the mortifying danger of falling asleep on the kitchen table - which would be extremely bad manners.

Thankfully, Emily wasn't offended when she noticed. "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, pushing the stacks of sandwiches into the refrigerator. "Of course you're tired. I didn't think. I shouldn't have made you work this morning."

"It's fine," I said, and a large, embarrassing yawn escaped. "I volunteered, remember?"

"Still. I'm an awful hostess. Come on, you can nap in my old room."

The small bedroom, tucked off of the tiny hallway that also led to the bathroom, was clean but obviously not often used. Emily opened the top drawer of a dresser covered in band trophies, pulling out three heavy blankets and I laid down gratefully on the twin bed. "I'm sorry if it's musty in here," she apologized. "I moved into the loft after Grandmother passed. It hasn't seen much use since then."

"This was her house?"

Emily nodded. "I moved in after my parents died. My brother was older, he was on his own, but I was still in high school." She unfolded the blankets with a flourish and tucked them over me. "There. These ought to help, at least some. They helped me."

"Helped you with what?"

"The cold," Emily said simply. Knowingly.

I froze inside at I realized quickly what she was saying. If she knew about the cold... if my miserable hypothermia was because of the imprint, because I hadn't... if she'd felt the same... if it meant... "Does Sam know?" I whispered, sick dread in my stomach.

She shook her head. "No. I never told him." I exhaled - if Sam didn't know, then he couldn't tell Jacob. Emily examined her right hand for a moment, then said, "It's not true, you know, that honesty is always the best policy. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes, when you love someone, you don't tell them everything." Then she smiled, a very normal Emily sort of smile. "Do you want me to send Jacob in if he comes by for lunch?"

I turned my face into the pillow, too many thoughts and emotions spilling through me for me to make any sense of them. I was just tired. "Only if he wants to," I said softly.

I was asleep before Emily turned out the light.

* * *

I wandered through the unforgiving trees, looking, searching, just as I always did. But this was not the same dream as usual. For one thing, I felt no compulsion to search; I was merely wandering out of habit, because that was what was usually expected of me here. A heavy sadness weighed in my chest as I glanced around the pines and maples, peering into the empty darkness. This time I _knew_, knew from the very start that I wouldn't find anything. There was no panic, only sorrow. What I was searching for was gone. But still I searched, because I didn't know what else to do. Until I came to one particular tree.

The oak immediately before me was tall, but not that old, and obviously dying. The branches cracked and twisted into the sky above my head, backlit inky black by the shining of the moon, criss-crossing lines out of the night sky. There were no leaves, no acorns. The only sign of life came from strips of moss that grew from the ground up the peeling bark, adding a deceptive vibrant green to the rotten wood.

The green made me angry. _You're dead_, I said to the tree. _You're dead. Stop pretending you're alive._

For a moment I considered pulling the moss away from the trunk and forcing the poor oak to die alone, the way it ought to. My hand even reached out to do so, until I stopped myself. _Why do that?_ _The tree might be dead, but the moss is growing just fine._

"Bella?"

The familiar voice in my ear woke me with a start. I opened my eyes to see Jacob crouched next to my bed, peering at me anxiously. "You all right?" he asked. "You were talking to yourself."

I blushed as I sat up. My head was fuzzy with too long of a nap; my eyes didn't want to focus. "Did I say anything interesting?" My habit of sleep talking held a vast, unending potential for humiliation.

"Not really. I think you were yelling at a tree." Jacob's smile as he stood up seemed to light the room. I scanned his half-naked body anxiously for signs of injury, but he looked hale and whole, if very tired. "What did trees ever do to you?"

"No idea," I said, the dream already fading away into incoherence. "Maybe it made fun of my truck."

"Damn. Do you need some matches to start the forest fire?"

I held up my right hand reluctantly. "I don't think I could work matches right now. How about a lighter?"

"I'll see what I can dig up."

"Thanks." I sat up and slipped my shoes on; Jacob backed up to give me space in the tiny bedroom. His body in such a small area acted like a space heater, making the air warmer than the blankets I'd been under. "Are you here for lunch?"

Jacob gave me a strange look. "No, Bells, it's dinnertime."

"It's..." My mouth dropped open. "Holy _crow_, I did _not_ sleep all afternoon."

"Guess so," he said. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah." Oh, no. How inconsiderate and rude could I get? Sleeping away the entire day while Emily cooked and cleaned and did all the work...

As we exited the little bedroom, I was prepared to apologize repeatedly and abjectly; instead, I was greeted to the sight of Sam and Emily embracing in the kitchen. His arms were wrapped solidly around her waist, she had her fingers twisted through the short hair at the nape of his neck, and they were so _absorbed_ in one another after their day apart that they didn't notice our presence.

It was too intimate a scene to witness; I blushed heavily and looked down. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jacob doing the same. I didn't want to look at him - not while Sam and Emily were doing _this_, it was too rife with implications - but we did need to get going. "Um... let's just..."

"Yeah," he said quickly, and we padded silently across the living room. Or rather, Jacob padded silently; I hit my shin on the edge of the coffee table and swore. Neither of them noticed. As we walked out the front door, I overheard Sam whisper something low and sweet to Emily, and for a brief, sharp moment, I despised them both.

Jacob and I were both quiet as we climbed into the truck and I pulled out of the driveway. I wasn't sure what he was thinking; there were certainly a lot of options. _I_ couldn't get the image of Sam peppering kisses over Emily's scarred face out of my head. Was that how everyone had expected Jacob and I to behave? That once he'd finally come clean about the imprint, we'd be all over each other, deliriously happy, and everything would be perfect and wonderful forever?

It was a ridiculous notion. I was ruined inside - damaged goods - and Jacob hated everything about this. It was impossible to be happy the way Sam and Emily were.

But the tiniest part of me, one that flickered around the edges of the wounds in my chest as though it wanted to knit them back together, wondered what it would feel like, if we tried that. Theoretically, of course. I'd known love, the most unimaginable, engrossing, impossible love; I knew I could never feel like _that_ again. That was a once-in-a-lifetime sensation - or maybe several lifetimes, depending on how you looked at it.

But... people... they could love more than one person, right? Not the same way, of course, but...

An automatic, instinctive pain lashed through me at the very thought, but I forced myself to think rationally. It happened. Unimaginable as it might have been, people did it all the time. Renee had loved Charlie once, but she was blissfully happy with Phil.

I thought of Juliet. What would she have done if Romeo had left her, not because he was banished, but because he had lost interest? She wouldn't go back to her old life, not really. Even if she'd lived until she was old and gray, every time she'd closed her eyes, it would have been Romeo's face she saw behind her lids. Surely.

I couldn't resist a glance over at Jacob; he was studying his hands with grim determination. I wondered if Juliet would have married Paris in the end, just to please her parents, to keep the peace. But then, the story didn't say much about Paris. He was just a stick figure - a place holder, a threat, a deadline to force her hand.

My stomach turned. Jacob was no _placeholder_. What an awful comparison.

Another example, then. Were there any stories that didn't end in tragedy for first love? Romeo and Juliet didn't survive their passion. Ophelia drowned herself rather than face a life without Hamlet. Heathcliff and Cathy laid waste to everyone around them...

...but Marianne Dashwood didn't die. Marianne Dashwood found happiness with Colonel Brandon after Willoughby nearly destroyed her.

I pondered this for awhile. I hadn't read _Sense and Sensibility_ in months and months, since one of the main characters bore a name I couldn't bear to see in print. But I certainly remembered the plot. Marianne and Willoughby were a perfect match, _made_ for each other in every way. She loved him with a consuming passion. Then he left - she didn't have enough to offer him - and she nearly died of grief. But Colonel Brandon was there, and he loved her, he had loved her before and he loved her after; in the end she came to love him too, and they were very happy together.

Marianne Dashwood grew up and moved on.

My mind continued to wander.

It could never be like it had been with Edward. Never again. But maybe... with Jacob... it would be _different_ of course. Not unimaginable perfection, but... comfortable. Soothing. Perhaps _different_ wasn't so bad; it was different for Marianne with Colonel Brandon, but she was happy. _Different _didn't have to mean _less, _did it? Would it be like that?

_Not 'would it be like that,'_ I corrected myself sharply, cutting off my train of thought before it took me any further down the path of impossibility. _'Could it have been like that.'_ Whatever _could_ have happened, the chance was gone. Thanks to the imprint things would never be simple between Jacob and I. Not now. Not ever.

The thought settled a dark gloom over my heart and mind.

After several miles, Jacob was the one who broke the silence. "It looks like we're boxing the red-head in," he offered in the tones of someone determined to speak. "We still can't catch up to her, but she's losing ground. Sam was right," he admitted grudgingly, "it's easier with her staying on our land and not trying to get to Forks."

"So she definitely knows I'm here."

"Oh yeah. But don't worry, Bells. It's taking some time, but I think this should be done soon."

"That's great," I breathed, almost light-headed with relief. "That's wonderful."

Jacob glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He had a little smile on his face. "You still sound surprised."

"I'm not surprised. I'm relieved."

"Relieved I'm not going to get ripped up by the big, bad bloodsucker?"

"Yes." He was teasing; I was not. "Don't take it as an insult to your manhood. I don't like the idea of someone trying to kill you, that's all. Deal with it."

"Okay, okay," Jacob said, still amused. "Really, Bella, it won't be a problem. She's just fast, that's all. Once she's out of room to run, it'll be over in a heartbeat."

I couldn't be as confident as he was; I'd been hunted by James, and that had been enough to show me what a murderous vampire could really do. And I had trouble believing James would have been in love with someone who wasn't at least as talented and vicious as him - James would have wanted an equal, I was certain of it. Victoria wouldn't be caught easily, and once she _was_ caught, I didn't think it was going to be over as quickly as Jacob seemed to think.

But then, what did I know.

We chit-chatted the rest of the way to my house; I told Jacob about my complete failure at weeding, and he told me about how Jared had almost bitten Paul's ear off. "Paul thought something snarky about Kim," Jacob said, "I think he's just pissed because he's not getting laid." I, of course, blushed bright red. I talked about how Emily's baking skills left mine in the dust; he complained about how Embry was a hair faster than he was. The ride felt like it took five minutes instead of half an hour.

_Comfortable_. It was a strange concept.

"Am I supposed to go to Emily's again tomorrow?" I asked as we hopped out of the truck. Jacob, of course, would be running back; Charlie wasn't watching.

"If you don't mind," Jacob said. He scowled slightly. "You can go to my place if you want, or anywhere else, or stay here, but... I kind of feel better if you're at Emily's."

"Then I'll be there," I said firmly.

Jacob smiled just a little. "I'm kind of wrecking your spring break, aren't I?"

"That's okay. I don't think I like spring breaks." I glanced at the street; the cruiser was parked in front of the house. Charlie had beaten me home. "Thanks for the bodyguard duty, Jake. In fact, thanks for... well... everything."

Jacob's smile widened - not a crooked smile, but a sunny grin. "You're welcome, Bells."

* * *

That night, in my bedroom, I pulled out the copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ that had sat untouched on my bookshelf for nearly a year. With a swallow I skipped past all the sections about Edward Ferrars, a pinprick of pain stabbing me each time I saw the name - but only a pinprick, at least. Instead, I turned to the last page of the book to find the paragraphs I vaguely remembered.

_Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary fate. She was born to discover the falsehood of her own opinions, and to counteract by her conduct her most favourite maxims. She was born to overcome an affection formed so late in life as seventeen, and with no sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively friendship, voluntarily give her hand to another._

_Marianne could never love by halves; and her whole heart became, in time, as much devoted to her husband as it had once been to Willoughby._

I read the lines over and over, until the words ran together and I had a mild headache. Then I set the book on the nightstand, on top of my dog-eared copy of _Romeo and Juliet_, and went to sleep.

* * *

**_Coming Soon_**_: Secrets_

_**Sanity Update**: I'd left out both dream sequences AND literature quotes. Unforgivable Meyer-verse lapse. My abject apologies. Also, I am now free - FREE! - of absolute canon event restraints! The next several chapters comprised all of five pages in New Moon, so **I** get to decide what happened in the missing scenes! BWAHAHAHAHA! (And now that **I'm** setting the speed, pacing will again be shot to hell and everything will appear to blow by at lightning speed. Fucking pacing. Bane of my existence.)_


	9. Secrets

_**Disclaimer Forever**: Though there are parts of this fic that are (still) directly lifted from New Moon, New Moon is not mine. It has never been mine, and it will never be mine. You know why? Because I'm not Stephenie Meyer. The entire Twilight Saga belongs to her, and she's the one that'll have to explain it to Saint Peter when she's standing at the pearly gates, that's all I'm sayin'._

* * *

_you're a beautiful / a beautiful fucked up man / you're setting up your razor wire shrine  
Sarah McLachlan, "Building A Mystery"_

* * *

**8. Secrets**

* * *

It was spring break in Forks again. I woke up on Monday morning and laid in bed for a few extra minutes, curled up and running my thumb across the tiny line of scar left exposed by my cast. I'd spent last year's spring break being hunted by a vampire, too. What a lousy tradition. I was pretty sure Angela had gotten to go to Miami Beach. Even with the drunken crowds, that sounded like it would be more fun than this.

When I finally came down for breakfast, Charlie was lifting the last strips of what looked to be an entire pound of bacon out of the frying pan. His new-found dedication to cooking took a lot of responsibility from my shoulders, but we would both have heart attacks soon if this kept up. "Mornin' Bells," he said cheerily, handing me a plate.

"Morning," I replied automatically, sitting down and taking a bite of the admittedly perfectly crisped bacon. Charlie's skills at cooking meat were undeniable, even if it couldn't be good for our respective cholesterol levels. "Thanks, this is good." I reminded myself to pick up some oatmeal and fruit when I next had a chance.

"So, a week off," he said, sitting down across from me at the little kitchen table. He pushed a stack of buttered toast in my direction. "Got any crazy plans?" His tone was light and joking, but the wariness in his eyes gave him away. Apparently I wasn't the only one thinking about last spring break this morning.

"Nope." The toast was perfectly done too, just brown enough, and butter-side down the way I liked it. "Just gonna hang out at La Push and be boring." It wasn't a lie - my part in this was uninteresting in the extreme. Worry, weed, and make Jacob miserable. Easy enough.

Charlie frowned, a piece of bacon midway to his mouth. "La Push? Again?"

Uh-oh. "Yeah," I said casually. "Jake's going to teach me how to change the oil on the truck." _That_ part was officially a lie.

"We've already been invited over to the Blacks' for dinner tonight," Charlie said, his frown deepening. "So why don't you just hang around here today, sleep in, watch some... I don't know... soap operas, or something... and then we'll both go after I get off of work."

A sinking feeling pulled at my stomach. "That's all right, Dad. I'm not really in a Days of our Lives kind of mood. I'd rather go see Jacob."

Charlie took a bite of his bacon reluctantly, and we both ate in awkward, oppressive silence for a few moments. This wasn't good at all. If Charlie decided to investigate too closely...well, I wasn't exactly certain what would happen, but it would surely add one more problem to a situation that was already difficult enough.

"Bella," Charlie finally said, his voice dead serious, "I've been a cop since before you were born." I opened my mouth to protest, and he held up his hand, all business. This was Chief Swan speaking. "I _do_ have a few instincts, and I know when a story has an odor to it. And whatever is going on down at the reservation right now doesn't smell right."

"There's nothing going on," I insisted. "Nothing serious, anyway. I was wrong about all that."

"No, I don't think you were," he said. "If it was just a bunch of kids being rowdy, that would be one thing, but Billy and Harry are acting strange now too. I don't know what's happening - _yet_ - but I don't like it. Until this all gets sorted out, I want you to-"

"I know Billy's being weird," I interrupted desperately, trying to think as fast as I could. "But it's not... it's me, okay? It's about me. That's why everything feels off. It's me and Jacob."

Charlie blinked, his Chief Swan face switching off instantly. "What?"

"It's... well..." I hoped I could make this as close to the truth as possible while still putting Charlie on the wrong track; he was more likely to believe me if I wasn't making a story out of whole cloth. "Things with Jacob and I are... uh... changing. Sort of. Maybe. And I think Billy's not sure how he feels about it, and his friends don't really know me all that well, and so it's all just kind of... um... complicated," I finished lamely.

"Complicated," Charlie repeated.

"Yeah." I couldn't think of another word for it that didn't involve vulgarity.

"Oh." Charlie looked down at the table, his eyes wide, clearly trying to process this new information. At least he seemed to be completely derailed from his previous train of thought. "Well... uh... that's... good?" He glanced up at me awkwardly, like he was hoping he'd said the right thing.

I sighed and poked at a piece of bacon. "I'm not really sure yet. Jake's kind of... unhappy about it."

"Why would Jacob be unhappy?"

"Because," I ducked my head, trying to be honest without telling the truth, "he... it's different for him than me, and, well..."

"I see," Charlie said in a way that clearly meant he didn't. I couldn't blame him. Nothing I was saying made any sense.

We ate more bacon and toast in silence.

Finally, Charlie pushed back his chair with a squeak and stood up from the table. "Okay, Bells, I've gotta go to work. If you're going down to the reservation-" he said the words reluctantly "-be safe, okay?"

"Don't worry, I will be." There were five very large and hairy teenagers making sure of that.

Charlie put his plate in the sink, and I watched his shoulders raise and lower as he took a deep breath. "Look, Bella," he started, turning to face me, his pale cheeks very slightly pink, "It's... well, I don't think it's any big secret that I never got over your mom."

My breath stopped in my throat. My father had never spoken of this before. It was a taboo subject.

"The thing is," he continued, "I didn't... try. I didn't _want_ to try. I know it's awkward for any kid to hear, but I loved her a lot, and when she left..." He stared at the wall, not meeting my eyes. "Anyway. These last several months... it's my fault, in a way. Your reaction, I mean. You got that from me. And the clumsiness. And the paleness. Lousy genetics, sorry."

"They're not so lousy," I murmured.

The corner of Charlie's mouth twitched. "Bella, the point is... well... I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did. Don't mourn something so much that you miss all the other good things that come along."

I tried to picture a younger Charlie, only a few years older than me, sitting in his recliner with his arms wrapped around his chest. It was a horrible image. But now- maybe he hadn't moved on, exactly, but he got up every day, he worked, he made bacon for me. "Dad..." I swallowed, trying to feel out the right words. "Dad, how did you do it? How did you make it stop?" I wanted it to stop. Edward's voice was gone - _I'd_ sent it away - and moving on... as painful as it sounded... felt like it might be a good thing. I just didn't know _how._

Maybe my father would.

Charlie's half-smile widened. "Do you really want to know?" I nodded vigorously, and he laughed. "Billy punched me in the face. It worked - I got off my butt, if only to hit him back. We ended up breaking my TV."

My mouth dropped open. "Really?"

"Yep. He said he was sick of my moping and he was going to beat some sense into me, like it or not."

"Holy crow." I shook my head in amazement. Now I knew where Jacob got it from. "The Blacks are pretty good at that, I guess."

Charlie's face instantly darkened. "_What?_ Has that boy hit you? I swear to God, Bella-"

"_No,_ Dad, yeesh! I meant metaphorically!"

"Oh," he said, relaxing. After a long moment, Charlie sighed and shrugged. "Well, that's it. That's my parental advice for the month. Take it with a grain of salt - after all, I'm just a terminal bachelor."

I frowned at him. "Dad, if you want to, you know... I mean, it's not like you don't still have time. You're forty. That's not very old."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "You're eighteen. You don't exactly have one foot in the grave either." Then he surprised me by planting a quick kiss on the top of my head. "Love you, kiddo," he said - and he escaped out the front door before I had a chance to reply.

* * *

Even though I was at Emily's by nine AM - which felt terribly early for a vacation day - Jacob had already come and gone, to my extreme consternation. It was as though I couldn't believe he was still okay unless I saw him with my own eyes. Maybe it was unfair of me, but I just couldn't bring myself to trust Sam to keep him safe. Something about the Alpha just... got under my skin.

In spite of my anxiety, though, Emily's company was still pleasant. Nothing seemed to dampen her cheerfulness, and she was still openly thrilled to have me there; she chatted lightly as I followed her around, helping to pull up the last few straggling weeds, watching her mop the spotless oak floor, listening while she explained how to thread her grandmother's ancient loom. She was never quiet, but her talkativeness was different than Jessica's - I was free to join in the conversation whenever I felt like it, and during the times I didn't, her steady words kept the awkward silences away. I felt surprisingly comfortable, whether I felt like speaking or remaining quiet.

Mostly comfortable, anyway. The absence of the pack members weighed on me more and more heavily as the morning drifted on, and my eyes kept drifting to the window, my fingernails scratching around the edges of my cast. By ten-thirty, my leg was jiggling restlessly against the rung of the kitchen chair. By eleven-thirty, I was pacing the length of the living room.

By noon I couldn't take it anymore. "Okay, I've got to get out of here. Give me something to do. Please."

"Would you mind going to the store?" Emily said mildly, elbow-deep in a gigantic, sticky pile of bread dough. "I'm making strawberry cake for dessert tonight, and I'm almost out of butter. It's not far. You should be safe."

"Sure." I was already fishing my keys out of the borrowed purple hoodie, which I had every intention of living in it until my cast came off. "Will they have groceries?"

"They have most things there." Emily watched me as the keys rattled uncontrollably in my shaking hands. "In case you were wondering," she said, "no. It doesn't get any easier."

I bit back the sort of curse that I never used. "How do you deal with it?" I said instead. There had to be _some_ way to survive this anxiety of knowing that someone who mattered a great deal to me - mattered _most_, quite possibly - was in undeniably mortal danger. Emily seemed to be holding herself together reasonably well, while I was a wreck.

"I bake." She lifted her hands from the dough, and flour floated down from her fingertips. "A _lot_."

It only took fifteen minutes to get to the reservation's only store; the roads were steadily drying out despite the lack of sun, and the Chevy's newly tuned engine seemed pleased to maintain a reasonable speed. Jacob was right - I needed to get the oil changed more often. I didn't want anything to happen to this truck. It was too important.

My eyes kept leaving the road to scan the trees for flashes of red fur or red hair, but if they were out there, I couldn't see them.

The general store felt considerably larger on the inside than it looked on the outside - the narrow isles and high shelves were packed with every imaginable necessity, and not in any intuitive order. Bags of crew socks sat next to packages of paper towels; paperback novels shared space with wool yarn. Old women and small children alike moved up and down the isles with no trouble at all - so I pretended to do the same, a scarlet blush permanently staining my cheeks.

The food, at least, seemed to be located separately from the clothes and household goods, and eventually I found the butter Emily requested. I even managed to pick up a tin of old-fashioned oatmeal and a bag of green apples to add to Charlie's protein-centric breakfasts. Feeling pleased with my small accomplishment, I turned the corner of the freezer section to head to the checkout lanes...

...but I didn't make it very far. Rather, I ran smack dab into a very large, very hard chest, and looked up to see a very surprised Quil Ateara looking back down at me. "Hi, Bella," he said, a smile immediately coming to his face.

"Hey, Quil," I said blankly, a little disoriented. When I'd last seen Quil, we'd been sitting next to each other in the truck; I could tell even then that he was bigger, but now that I was standing in front of him, the increased height and bulk were ten times more obvious. Embry had been right - there was no question, none, that Quil was destined to become a werewolf. Any day now, surely.

I felt a pang of sadness for him. His life was about to become a lot harder.

As I was thinking these maudlin thoughts, Quil was taking in the cast that peeped out of the sleeve of Emily's hoodie. "Whoa," he said. "You _meant_ it when you said you were going to kick Jake's ass."

I put a smile on my face that I hoped didn't look too fake. "Not really. This was an unrelated incident." Well, sort of unrelated.

"So, how'd it go?" Quil said. I noticed uneasily that he was following me to the checkout lane, even though the list in his basket only had half the items crossed out. This felt like the beginnings of another complication. "Did you make Jake cry? _Please_ tell me you made him cry."

Interestingly enough, the answer was yes. "I didn't really get very far." I shrugged my shoulders, hopefully sending a 'Hey, what're you gonna do about it' message. "Um... he didn't really listen to anything I had to say." Another half-truth. I was getting good at them.

Quil sighed. "Too bad. I actually thought you might have a shot."

"Me too," I murmured.

"So, what are you doing slumming it on the rez, then?" He grinned as we approached the register, grabbing four Snickers bars off the display. "Got bored with the pale faces?"

I bit my lip. "Not really. It's spring break, and my dad's been hanging out with Billy a lot, watching March Madness." Okay, Charlie wasn't with Billy _now_, nor had _I_ been watching March Madness, but hopefully Quil wouldn't catch my omissions.

He didn't seem to. "Oh. So Jake's not been around much?" he said, reaching into my basket and loading my items onto the conveyor belt.

"Nope." _That_ was true. My fingernails found the edge of the cast again.

"Well, his loss," Quil said brightly. "If you're bored, why don't you come over to my place? I'm just out back. Got a ping pong table and everything," he said with a playful wink. "It's a regular nightclub."

"Oh. I, well... I can't."

The smile fell from Quil's face. "Why not?"

"Um..." I tried to hide my blush by looking intently into my wallet for the proper cash to pay. "Well, I need to get this butter into the refrigerator."

"I _have _a refrigerator, Bella. It's plugged in and everything."

"No, I know, I mean, I figured you did, I just..." That was it. I was out of lies, half-truths, and clever responses. I couldn't come up with anything more. I couldn't spend the afternoon in his home, pretending not to know anything, playing the 'no, we're just _friends_' game, complaining about Jacob... not to mention scaring everyone when I didn't come back to Emily's. I couldn't do it. I took the receipt, picked up my bag reluctantly, and said, "I just can't, Quil. I'm sorry."

He stared at me for a long moment, and then his face turned abruptly angry, overcome with a bitterness that was now wrenchingly familiar to me. "You're with _them_ now, aren't you?" he spat.

"It's-"

"Outsider white girl, and they let _you_ in their super secret club?"

"Quil-"

"Fuck off." He turned his back to me and pulled a wad of ones from his pocket, thrusting it at the surprised and wary checkout girl. "Go back to Jacob and Sam and whoever else they've sucked in. I don't give a shit."

None of the words that came to mind would be helpful - the only thing that would make him feel better now would be the truth, and that wasn't mine to offer. With a heavy heart, I trudged back to my truck, and hoped that whatever was going to happen to Quil, it happened soon.

* * *

Five more hours passed. Emily baked four loaves of bread, two strawberry cream cakes, a plate of muffins, and an experimental zucchini loaf that needed more sugar. _I_ paced in front of the window.

My eyes were beginning to hurt from searching the line of the forest. Maybe being staying on La Push had been a mistake after all. If I'd been at home, I could have done laundry, or scrubbed the floors, or reorganized the linen cupboards. I could even have watched some sports. But Emily's kitchen was _her _domain; she wasn't keeping me out, but I had nothing useful to contribute. If I'd tried to help I would only be in the way. All I could do was sit here and go quietly out of my mind until Victoria was dead.

Hopefully that would be soon.

Somewhere around my thirty millionth scan out the window, I finally saw what I'd been searching for all day - the movement of bodies through the trees. Within a moment I recognized the familiar builds of Sam and Jacob. "They're back," I said to Emily. She nodded casually, but I could see the barest hint of tension running out of her shoulders. I backed away from the door and started rearranging the muffins on the counter, as though I hadn't been obsessively pacing like a lunatic for the entire day.

I heard heavy footsteps on the front porch, and then Sam entered without knocking. "Emily," he said, in that breathless, adoring way of his, and strode to her side instantly. She smiled happily when he took her in his arms and tugged her away from the counter, ignoring the icing on her hands, pulling her flush against his body and pressing his face into her hair.

Jacob rolled his eyes from the doorway. "Bye, Sam," he said sarcastically as we made our escape. At least this was becoming more habitual for us.

I took in Jacob's form as we crossed the yard to my truck. He was in one piece, at least, but exhaustion was in his every movement. He could barely walk in a straight line. I had expected to feel less worried once I saw him; I didn't. If I could just rub his back, I thought I'd be more reassured-

"Want me to drive?" he asked.

"No, I'll do it." I didn't comment on my concern that he'd steer the truck right into a ditch.

As we drove, Jacob seemed determined to hide his fatigue; instead, he described the pack's success over the course of the day. "She runs away, then comes back," he explained. "Over and over. She's trying to find a way past us, but we know this land a hell of a lot better than she does. Sooner or later she'll run out of options, and once she tries the same path twice, we'll have her."

"Sooner rather than later, I hope." We traveled in silence for another few minutes, then I said, "By the way, I saw Quil at the store today."

He perked up with interest. "Really? How's he doing?"

"He was, um, snappish."

Jacob sighed. "Yeah, that sounds right," he said morosely. "His grandfather says you can fry an egg on his head. It'll be any minute now, probably."

I glanced away from the road long enough to look at Jacob's face. "Well," I said, trying to think of something that might cheer him up, "maybe you'll have gotten Victoria by then. I know it'll still be hard, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about patrolling and stuff, right?"

"There's always going to be patrolling. Always. We're in this for life, Bells."

My eyes widened with horror. I had assumed that as soon as the immediate threat was gone, Jacob and the rest of the boys would be going back to their normal lives, free of this burden they never asked for. "Why would you have to keep this up if there aren't any vampires around?"

"More could always come through." The bitterness - and weariness - in Jacob's voice was a tangible thing. "We won't ever get to just... _stop._ It doesn't work like that."

Fury built up inside me. "They can't do that to you." I wasn't even sure who _they_ were, but I was adamant that _they_ wouldn't get to come within a mile of Jacob once Victoria was dead. "They _can't_. I won't let them."

Jacob smiled a little. "Okay, Bella." At the look on my face, he added hastily, "But you're right. Once the bloodsucker's dead, we won't be on red alert anymore. It won't be nearly so bad for Quil as it's been for the rest of us. That'll be nice."

"Nice," I echoed.

Pulling up into the Blacks' front yard, I had to park under the tree; Charlie's cruiser had taken my usual spot. For once I managed not to step in a mud puddle when I hopped out of the truck. The unexpectedly dry weather was making a difference.

"How long do you have?" I asked Jacob as he came around the side of the cab. "Before you have to go back out, I mean?"

He shrugged. "Three hours, maybe. Four tops."

I looked at the slump in his muscled shoulders and the way his every movement seemed to be labored. Whenever he wasn't working, he was eating; I couldn't imagine he'd gotten more than an hour of sleep at a stretch since this had all started three weeks ago. "I know you're hungry, Jake, but you should probably take this time to get some rest."

"I'm fine," he said quickly.

"You are _not_ fine. You _have_ to sleep, Jacob, you look terrible."

"Sleep is for the weak."

"Sleep is for the sane," I shot back. "Sleep is for the people who don't get ripped up by vampires."

Jacob grinned at me, but it only highlighted the dark circles under his eyes. "But I'm not a person, Bells, I'm a wolf. Usual rules don't apply."

My left hand clenched so hard that my fingernails dug painfully into my palm. "That's crap. Of course you're a person. Don't think things like that. You _wouldn't_ be thinking things like that if you were getting some rest and weren't running yourself ragged and spending whatever energy you've got left holding off the im-" I stopped mid-sentence, and looked away before I could see Jacob's reaction.

I heard the injury in his voice anyway. "It's worth it, Bella."

"Not if you get yourself killed!" He made a huffing noise at that, and I said quickly, "Look, I'll save you some dinner. I promise you'll get to eat."

"No."

I nearly screamed. "_Why?_ Damn it, Jake, why are you fighting me on this? You _know_ you're tired!"

The stubborn expression on Jacob's face gave way to the _other_ one, the struggling one. The imprint one. He quickly dropped his eyes to his bare feet, which reminded me that I needed to find him some shoes. "I barely get to see you as it is," he muttered.

My heart ached - but not enough to overcome the pain of seeing him so exhausted. "Jake, I miss you too, but it doesn't matter. You need to get some sleep."

"No." He shook his head obstinately. "Maybe I can't touch you, but I'm sure as hell going to have dinner with you. I'm not going to waste the only time I've got."

An entire day - more like three weeks - of stress and anxiety came together in one frustrated explosion. Jacob wasn't playing fair. So I wouldn't either. "Jacob," I said, enunciating carefully. He met my eyes when I said his name. "_I_ need you to get some sleep. I want you to do this. For me. Please."

He looked as though I'd slapped him. As disbelief and betrayal widened his eyes, the frustration inside me gave way _instantly _to the sickest, coldest shame I'd ever felt in my life.

Jacob drew in a breath, visibly schooling his features into a calm, indifferent mask. "Yeah, okay," he said casually. "I know you're not happy unless you're freaking out over something." To anyone else, he would sound perfectly normal; but I could hear the strain behind his words, the humor that wasn't there.

Why didn't anyone ever try to kill me when I _wanted_ to die? "Jake-"

"Come on," he said, interrupting me before I could continue, "it's getting cold out here." He trudged up the front steps and into the house. I followed miserably behind.

* * *

Dinner was a short, uncomplicated, thoroughly horrifying affair. Charlie was on the scent.

When Jacob bowed out of dinner in favor of a nap, Charlie said, "Been staying out late at night, huh?"

When Billy remarked on the amount of food he was going through these days, Charlie said, "Yeah, the munchies can do that to you."

When Sam and Emily showed up with a strawberry cake, Charlie offered to cut it, and spirited it away to the kitchen. Over Billy's shoulder, I could see that he tasted a bit of the icing against his tongue before bringing out slices to everyone else.

He asked Sam casually about his employment, his hobbies, if he had any plans for further schooling, all the while flicking his eyes down to the veins on Sam's arms whenever Sam happened to look away. He made jokes with Billy about the secretive nature of teenagers, encouraging Billy to elaborate whenever he opened up the slightest amount. The only person who seemed to be immune to Charlie's interrogation was Emily, to whom Charlie was blushingly polite. My father, to Emily's distinct benefit, was not very sure how to act around women.

I should have felt embarrassed, but I was too busy hating myself. As soon as I could possibly get away with it, I fixed up a plate of spaghetti and cake, ignoring Charlie's vaguely disapproving look as I walked down the yard long hallway and entered the only door without knocking, closing it quickly behind me. Night had fallen, but I could make out shapes easily enough by the light of the moon through the window. Jacob's tiny closet of a room barely contained his double bed, only allowing for a few inches of space on either side between the frame and the wall. I set the plate on top of his dresser, the only available surface, and whispered, "Jake?"

There was no response. Jacob was stretched diagonally across the bed, his feet hanging off one end and his head off the other. In the shadows, his face looked peaceful and very young. He looked like he used to before all of this madness started. Just exactly as he'd used to.

I sat down on the edge of the mattress and controlled the nearly crippling desire to stroke my hand along his cropped hair. He wouldn't want me to do that, and I'd already done enough damage for one day.

"Jake," I whispered again. "Jake, I'm sorry." I could barely stifle the ugly, gasping sobs that were built up inside my lungs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Jacob, I'm so _sorry_..." Within moments I wasn't even sure what I was apologizing for - for the order, for Victoria, for trying to pull my hands away from his in the movie theater. Any of it. All of it. I cried for everything I'd done to him and everything I'd keep doing to him because I couldn't make the imprint go away.

Jacob slept through it all, and eventually his calm, even breathing soothed my edgy nerves.

At least he _was_ getting some rest.

I wasn't sure how long I'd sat there; maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour. Time didn't matter much. But my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I flinched back when the door opened and bright light from the hallway assaulted me.

"Jacob," Sam said, backlit in the doorway, "it's time to go."

I felt Jake stir on the bed behind me, then roll over to face the wall. His breathing stayed deep and even. "No," I said hoarsely. I dug my left hand into the edge of the mattress, the sheets bunching under my fingernails. "No. Go away. Go away and leave him alone."

There was a long pause, then Sam said, "He has responsibilities, Bella. You're going to have to learn to share."

As usual, there was nothing I could do.

I slipped out of the room before Jacob woke up;I couldn't stand to watch. I thanked Billy for dinner, smiled at Emily, and reassured Charlie on the way to the car that nothing had seemed abnormal to me about the evening. My entire life seemed to be made up of lies and mistakes these days, and still, the only thing in my head was how much I wished I could have laid down beside Jacob and kept him there.

* * *

_****_

Coming Soon: Distance

****

Sanity Update: I'm spending a lot of time talking to Stephenie Meyer right now. Like, turning to the side as though she's sitting next to me and saying, "Why didn't you do this? This was so fucking easy, you stupid woman, the themes were all right there! Why did you leave it for me to do? WHY?" Then the computer ate a tab and I lost an hour of edits. I threw a temper tantrum, people, and actual fucking temper tantrum. Items were thrown. Melodramatic weeping took place. Then I got a migraine and threw up a lot. I know this chapter is much barer than usual, but it's hard to write when you can only open your eyes for ninety seconds at a time before getting nauseous again. I think this fic is killing me.

By the way, the final bits are mapped. We'll have a total of fourteen chapters, plus the prologue and an epilogue, which brings us to a total of sixteen sections - more or less what I expected. (This has the added benefit of being EXACTLY the same length as the second half of New Moon. How canon-loyal am I, huh?) So we're at the halfway point. Just so there's no surprises. Length-wise, anyhow.

**Bonus Sanity Update (Husband Edition)**: Hi, everybody. I was asked to do this in between one of my bouts of bringing home the bacon, as it were. The fic appears to be all-consuming, as the cats' pleas that they have been ignored, unfed, and unloved in my absence are beginning to sound as if there is truth to them. Initially, I had tried gently suggesting that my wife go get some fresh air and remind herself that the world, on balance, is a good and relatively Meyer-free place. Now, I'm considering abandoning her in a park for a while whether she likes it or not. Just letting you all know, if you don't hear from her much when this is all done and posted, it's because I have confiscated the iPhone and laptop. 


	10. Distance

**_Revenge of the Disclaimer_**_: Though there are several parts of this fic that are lifted directly from New Moon or other parts of the Twilight Saga, I in no way claim that those parts are mine. If they were, I doubt I'd be getting so many fucking migraines. I wonder if Stephenie Meyer - who is not me - gets migraines? God, I hope so._

* * *

_a sad stained heart hanging on my sleeve / i'll still follow you  
Tracy Bonham, "Something Beautiful"_

* * *

**9. Distance**

* * *

I spent Tuesday morning at Billy's. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy Emily's company - I did - but taking up space in her house _every _day felt like a major imposition. Besides, she had complete control of the kitchen there, and I was beginning to feel like cooking something myself. So I spent the morning crafting a spaghetti casserole out of what I could find in the cabinets, something that would freeze and defrost easily and not lose its taste. It wasn't rosemary chicken or strawberry cake, certainly, but it was something. I was doing _something_.

Then I tried to work on math homework, but _that _was a hopeless endeavor - the numbers swam in front of my eyes. After awhile, I shoved the textbook aside in disgust and instead spent an hour mentally rehearsing what I would say to Jacob. Crying in his room while he slept was nowhere near good enough. I had messed up way too badly for something as self-indulgent as an apology that only I could hear. He deserved to hear my regret in a more coherent form... and then, somehow, I was going to come up with a way to make our imprint mess survivable. There had to be something better than this.

My thoughts went round in circles for hours.

In the afternoon, at least, I had a legitimate, relatively engrossing distraction: a shift at Newton's Outfitters. Jared - having drawn the short straw, I assumed - was the one who acted as my bodyguard on the way to the store.

When he arrived at Billy's, I opened the door and glanced down. Jared was wearing light blue tuxedo pants. "Lost the last pair, huh?"

"I feel like a total idiot," he grumbled.

My shift was short - only two to six - but it still provided an occupation for my troubled mind. I'd never been so grateful to stock canteens or give advice on sleeping bags. A few customers who came in gossiped amongst themselves about the missing hikers, and the animals that still hadn't been caught; I had to duck behind a display of canoe oars until the nervous blush faded from my cheeks.

Mike arrived an hour before the end of my day, and we chatted lightly about how our spring breaks were going. He was apparently already halfway through some new "hack-n-slash" on his Playstation, which seemed to be a major accomplishment, considering the way one of the teenagers who overheard whistled appreciatively and asked how to get past the boss at the end of the "moonglow." Their bubbling enthusiasm made me wonder if I was missing out on something by not having a gaming console. It almost sounded fun.

Around six I was crouched behind the check out counter, trying to figure out where I'd put one of the eighty or so box cutters, when a tap on the paneling made me look up. Jacob grinned down at me from an impossible height. "Lost a contact lens?"

"Ha ha," I said, straightening. My back gave an uncomfortable crack as I did. "You're my pick up, then?" I asked, trying not to study him too closely. If he was still upset about the night before, he didn't show it. In fact, he looked like he was in a relatively good mood.

"Yep. Ready to go?"

I nodded. "Just let me change out of my uniform and get my time card filled out, and I'll be good."

I took off my apron in the tiny back office and tried to prepare myself. A good apology. Nothing I'd come up with in my head so far had sounded quite right, so I'd need to wing it and hope for the best. At least Jacob didn't seem to be too angry at me... though in some ways, that made me feel _more_ guilty. I would almost feel better if he raked me across the coals, the way I deserved.

As I awkwardly shrugged on Emily's hoodie, Mike opened the door and squeezed in, rifling through the tall shelves of papers. "Have you seen the price tags for the new tents?"

"Sorry, no." I fumbled with the pewter buttons on the right sleeve, then sighed. I couldn't manage it left-handed. "Hey, Mike? Can you help me with this?"

Mike glanced down at my sleeve. "Yeah, sure, no problem." I held out my arm, and he started fastening the buttons carefully around my cast. "I guess this isn't too easy by yourself."

"Yeah, doing things one handed hasn't been much fun." I felt a prickling all over my skin, and glanced over Mike's shoulder to see Jacob scowling at us from the front of the store. Caught looking, he quickly dropped his eyes to the floor.

So much for Jake's good mood.

"There, all done," Mike said, fastening the last one next to my neck. "Hope that'll-" Then he cut off, catching the look on my face, and followed my eyes to where Jacob was drumming his fingers against the counter restlessly. "Uh... am I stepping on his toes?"

"Don't worry about it," I assured him. "Jake's just... in a weird mood." Permanently.

"Right," Mike said disbelievingly. "So, what, you guys are dating now or something?" He didn't do much to hide the jealousy in his tone.

"Not really." Somehow it was much more serious than that without actually being anything at all. "We're just friends, but... it's kind of hard to explain."

Mike observed Jacob for another moment, watching as he bit his lower lip and tried to look anywhere except back towards the office. "You do know that kid is head over heels for you, right?" Mike said. "I mean, it's _really_ obvious."

"I know." I sighed again. "Life is complicated."

"And girls," Mike said under his breath, "are cruel."

* * *

As soon as we'd made it into the Rabbit, I took a deep breath and steeled myself. "Jake, about last night-"

"It's okay, Bells," he said quickly.

"_No,_ it's not." I was beginning to develop a callous on the pad of my thumb from where I was rubbing it against the cast. "It was stupid and it was thoughtless and I let you down. I promised you, and I just..." I swallowed. I was _not_ going to cry and have _him_ comfort _me. "_I should never _ever_ have done it, and I won't ever let it happen again. I'll watch myself and I'll be more careful if I get upset, I swear... but I totally understand if you don't believe me."

I winced. The apology was a lot less elegant than I'd hoped for, but at least it was out there.

Jacob was silent for a long moment, until he finally said, "You shouldn't have to worry about being _careful._" His tone was frustrated. "I don't want you to have to _watch yourself_ with me. It's not fair."

I studied my fingernails, unable to look up. "I don't think it's fair that you have to worry about keeping your temper all the time, either," I whispered. "But that's kind of the way it is, isn't it."

"I guess."

We drove without speaking for a few minutes. Finally, more to break the silence than anything else, I said, "So, do you have to go out running after you drop me off, or do you get some time?"

To my surprise, Jacob smiled widely. "Time, actually. Emily's having a bonfire. Hot dog roasts and everything."

"Great!" Hoping to keep the smile on his face, I asked, "Who's coming? Am I invited?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ you're invited. And it's the guys, and Emily, and Kim, I think. Wolf-centric so no one will have to watch what they say. We get enough of that everywhere else."

"All the guys?" I said, surprised. "Sam's giving you the night off?"

"Kinda. Still have to do short runs, just to keep an eye on things, but everyone's going crazy, so we're getting a few hours to relax." Jacob smirked. "I think it was Emily's idea."

"I see." It sounded like something Emily would come up with, and she was certainly the only one who could convince Sam to agree to it. I wondered if she'd issued him an order, too.

It was going to be a long time before I stopped feeling wretched about that.

Jacob glanced over at me, and I saw the hint of a genuine smile play around his lips. "Think you can handle everyone for a whole evening, Bells?" he said, teasing. "We get rowdy."

"As long as no one's expecting me to arm-wrestle." My eyes widened as something occurred to me. "Oh, no, am I supposed to bring food? Should we stop at the store?"

"I wouldn't worry about it, honey. Emily hasn't failed us yet." I faked a little insulted pout, and his smile brightened a bit more. He was coming out of his bad mood... and I was doing it. For once, I was doing something _good_, instead of just causing damage. The thought made me flush with pride and pleasure.

He had also called me 'honey', and I was pretty sure he didn't realize he'd done it.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

* * *

We were the last to arrive at Emily's. Someone had already moved the pile of weeds - complete now with fallen branches, dead leaves, and other yard waste - into the middle of the clearing that stretched beyond Emily's garden. Paul and Embry appeared to be having an animated argument; everyone else was sitting on the grass, watching with varying degrees of amusement.

As we approached, Paul threw up his arms. "Fine, man, go ahead. Just don't come bitchin' to me when you don't have any eyebrows."

"Fine, I won't," Embry retorted. He bent over, picked up a can of lighter fluid, and began pouring it liberally over the mound of debris. Paul rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he sat on a log.

Jacob whistled. "Hey, Embry, try not to burn the whole forest down, okay?"

"It'd get rid of the leech!" He wedged the can in between two branches and spraying the leaves inside the pile.

As Jacob shook his head, I looked over to where Emily was sitting comfortably on Sam's lap, her scars muted in the dim light of late evening; she returned my little wave with her bright half-smile. Before I could go to her, however, Jared leapt up from his spot on the grass and motioned me over, gently tugging a girl sitting next to him to her feet.

"Hey, Bella," he said excitedly as I approached. "This is Kim." He said her name similarly to the way Sam would say Emily's name - suffused with adoration. In Jared's case, though, the reverence sounded bright and sparkling, where Sam's sounded warm and soothing.

I glanced to where Jacob had gone to sit beside Paul, asking him about something or other. I couldn't tell if there was any difference in the way he said my name now.

Kim's copper skin was a bit lighter than everyone else's, though of course nowhere near my paleness; nonetheless, it made it easy to see the deep blush that started at her wide cheekbones and quickly spread across her face. "Hi," she said shyly. Her voice was high and soft.

I felt a stirring of pity. Emily had been right: Kim was very, very young. I would have guessed her age as thirteen instead of fifteen. Not by her appearance, necessarily - the appropriate curves were in all the right places, even aided a bit by the few extra pounds she seemed to carry - but by the air of hesitancy around her. She had the awkward feel of a girl who wasn't comfortable in her own skin yet. It wasn't so long ago that I'd been in that stage of adolescence, and I'd hated every minute of it.

I held out my good hand. "I'm Bella. It's really nice to meet you." I put as much warmth into my words as I possibly could. She looked nervous enough as it was; no reason to make her take the first step.

Kim shook my hand, flushing again, then bit her full lower lip and looked at the ground. She seemed to be smiling, though, and when Jared leaned down to her ear and said, "See, I told you she was nice!" she smiled wider and leaned against him.

A motion to my left caused me to look away; Embry caught my eye and made a show of pretending to vomit. I had to quickly bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, and instead tried to give him a severe, reprimanding look. Apparently that sort of thing only worked coming from Emily, however, because Embry only increased his theatrics, making a horking noise.

The sound made Jared look up. "Shut up, Embry," he snapped, scowling.

Embry actually blew a raspberry like a toddler, and almost instantly Jared was chasing him across the clearing; I braced myself, waiting for the explosion of fur, but it didn't happen. Instead they simply raced through the grass, Jared trying to tackle Embry, Embry dodging out of the way, both hurling insults and laughing. If it wasn't for their huge statures and lightning speed, they could easily have been little boys having fun at a playground.

I realized they had really, _really_ needed a night off.

Kim watched the guys anxiously, twisting her fingers together; I caught her eye and she gave me that shy little smile again. "Sorry," she apologized quietly. "I don't like it when they fight."

"Don't worry," I assured her, "they're not really fighting until someone gets bitten." She giggled, then seemed to be surprised at the noise. She quickly dropped her eyes back to the ground.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jacob was watching me. I couldn't quite figure out the look on his face - it held most of the same struggle and intensity that I was growing sadly accustomed to, but there was something else too, something softer.

I smiled at him, and he looked away.

Great.

Emily whispered into Sam's ear; he patted her back and called towards Jared and Embry, "Come on, get this thing lit so we can eat. In half an hour someone's going to have to go do a quick run." There was a chorus of groans, and he shook his head. "I said a _low-key_ evening, not a _free_ evening. The bloodsucker is still out there."

"We know, we know," Jared grumbled. "Buzzkill."

Sam glared at him, but I saw Emily elbow him slightly in the chest, and he sighed and didn't say anything more.

Everyone settled into comfortable positions around the yard waste, and Embry tossed a lighter at me. To my shock, I managed to catch it left-handed. "Go on, Bella," he said playfully. "Light it up!"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jacob stiffen, but it was Paul who snapped, "Hell no. _You're_ the one lighting the damn thing, Embry, I could care less about seeing the new girl go up in flames."

I leaned towards the pile of weeds and sticks and sniffed experimentally. It reeked of lighter fluid.

"She'll be fine," Embry protested, his eyes wide and innocent. "New people get to light the bonfires! It's a sacred wolf custom dating back six whole months! Have you no sense of tradition?"

"Tradition my ass. You're trying to save your eyebrows."

"Am not!"

"It's fine, guys," I interrupted. "I'll do it."

Embry gave Paul a triumphant _See?_ look, but Jacob stiffened even more. I noticed his fingers tapping a quick beat against the log beneath him. I clicked on the lighter with a little _snick_, and Jacob suddenly burst out, "Embry, hold the back of her shirt."

"Huh?"

"Hold her shirt." Jacob's voice was coming quickly, his eyes flicking from the lighter to the leaves and back again. His entire body was tense, like a spring coiled too tight. "When she leans in. So she doesn't fall. Just in case."

"I'll be fine," I protested.

Embry let out a low whistle. "Man," he said, "you are _not_ all there."

"Just do it, all right?"

"Hey, I've got an idea," Paul suggested sarcastically, acid dripping from his words. "Why don't you quit being such a chicken and grab her _yourself_, Jacob? Or are you too much of a wuss even for that?"

I felt my face turning bright red, and a tiny shudder ran up Jacob's spine. Paul started to say something more, but then Sam commanded quietly, "That's enough." Paul shut his mouth with a snap.

The silence was oppressive.

So I reached forward, held the flame to one of the branches, and then jumped backward as the entire stack of greenery went up with a rushing _whoosh. _A wave of heat rolled over the group as the sticks and weeds were instantly engulfed in an enormous orange ball of fire.

No one spoke for a few seconds, until finally Embry admitted, "Okay, maybe I used a _little_ too much lighter fluid."

"You think?" Jared said, awestruck.

I tucked the lighter into my pocket with a triumphant grin. "Do I still have my eyebrows?"

"Not even singed." Embry looked incredibly smug. "That was so cool."

In one fluid motion Jacob jumped up from the fireside and disappeared into the trees almost faster than my eye could follow. I took an instinctive step to follow, but Emily caught my eye and gave me a tiny shake of her head. _Wait_, she mouthed, her face understanding.

I shifted my weight nervously, knowing I should listen to Emily. She knew more than me, after all. She had been doing this for a lot longer.

But she was Sam's imprint, not Jacob's. It wasn't the same.

I went after him.

Emily's home, like many of the houses on the reservation, wasn't far from the water's edge. I found a well-beaten path through the woods - stones carefully removed and fallen branches cleared - which took me to one of the omnipresent cliffs that edged the Pacific Ocean. It looked like a lovely place to watch the sunset, though we were now well into the cool air and deepening blue sky of late evening.

Jacob was moving restlessly across the rocks, his footfalls light and graceful. "Give me a few minutes, Bella," he growled, not looking at me. "I'm not in the best mood."

"I gathered." I stayed just inside the trees and didn't approach him; I had a sneaking suspicion that Emily's scars might have happened in a situation similar to this. But I didn't leave either. "You shouldn't let Paul get to you like that," I said gently.

"It's not Paul." Jacob reminded me of an animal pacing in a too-small cage at the zoo, back and forth, back and forth. "Paul's an ass, but he's not the problem."

"Oh." Was it the fire, then, that was bothering him? Was he angry with me? "Jake, I'm fine, it's only a bonfire."

"I _know!_" he shouted suddenly, and even though he was a good twenty feet away, I flinched. "I know you're fine. Of course you're fine. Even if you'd tripped you were _surrounded _by people with inhuman reflexes. Nothing would have happened to you."

My confusion mounted. "Okay, then, so..."

"So you were totally safe and I freaked out anyway," Jacob said. He finally came to a halt and looked at me; instead of focusing on my face, though, his eyes roamed all over my body, as though he were checking to make sure I was still in one piece, as though he were checking to make sure I still _existed_. "You're just... you're gonna _do_ stuff, Bells, you're going to drive your truck and use knives in the kitchen and it _scares _me and I don't want to be one of those guys who acts like girls can't take care of themselves. I _hate_ those guys."

My mouth opened, then closed again. I had no idea how to respond; what he was saying was very different than anything I'd been told in the past. Of course, that shouldn't have surprised me. Jacob _was_ very different.

"I'm nervous all the time," Jacob continued, still studying me. "I don't even want to let you out of my _sight_ and that's messed up. I've got to figure out what to do about it."

"Jake," I said, loathing the struggle I was seeing within him, "if you want me to stay in your sight, it's okay. I don't mind."

"Well, _I_ mind," he said harshly.

I swallowed and debated the wisdom of sharing more information. Finally I leaned on the side of commiseration and said, "Jake... it's not just you, okay? I'm nervous all the time too."

His eyes widened with horror. "You told me you didn't feel any different!"

"I don't!" At his skeptical look, I amended, "Okay, not much. But I don't think it's the imprint, okay? I mean, you're out fighting a vampire, wouldn't I be anxious anyway?"

"I guess," he said grudgingly.

"But it's not just that," I said, gesturing to the expanse between us. "I miss you. I miss _touching_ you, Jacob."

He moaned.

"I don't think it's doing us much good," I went on, my voice dropping to a whisper. He wasn't going to like hearing this, but I had to say it. "It doesn't seem to be helping you think more clearly, so... maybe if there wasn't so much space, you would still feel like I'm _okay_, even if you can't see me. Maybe this would get better."

"Maybe it would get worse," he countered darkly.

"You don't know that."

"Neither do _you_."

Despair welled up in me, cold and slick under my skin. This was impossible. We were in a no-win situation, with no solution that would make Jacob happy - aside from getting rid of the imprint, which everyone said couldn't be done. And I knew Jacob would tear himself apart out of stubbornness rather than admit defeat. "Jake, you shouldn't have to be so unhappy." I swallowed, hoping that I could phrase my next words properly, because everything hinged on them. "There _has _to be another option, something that could work better that this. I don't think it would have to be like it is with Sam and Emily, or Jared and Kim. I mean, that's _them_, and we're _us_. It doesn't have to be the same. We can figure out a way of working around it, or of living with it... I won't _tell_ you what to be, I won't, I promise, and we can just... figure it out as we go."

The remaining light of late evening was fading; it was getting harder and harder to read the expression on Jacob's face.

"Jake, I offered to try, remember?" I whispered. "I know it was before I had any idea of what was going on... but the offer is still open."

I watched as his right hand reached up instinctively to twist around a ponytail that wasn't there anymore. How long would it be before that stopped?

"I was going to drive you around in the Rabbit a lot," Jacob said out of nowhere.

I blinked. "What?"

"It was finished," he said reluctantly. "I'd finally gotten it done, and I thought, well... I'll drive Bella around. Show her some of the other beaches, maybe go to Seattle for a day. That'll be fun and not scary for her."

I was officially confused. "Okay..."

"Then, a few weeks later, I was... well..." It was too dark and I wasn't close enough to see, but I had no doubt that Jacob was blushing. "I was going to ask if... maybe you wanted me to take you to your prom."

In spite of the seriousness of the moment, I felt a little smile twitch at the corner of my lips. "Prom? Jake, I didn't even want to go _last_ year-"

"Oh, I know," he said quickly. "You hate dancing and dressing up and school stuff. Of course you'd say no. I was counting on it."

He'd completely lost me. "So... if you knew I'd refuse, why were you going to ask?"

"Because after you went on a long rant about how you hate prom," he explained, taking a few steps closer to me, "I was going to say you should just come over to my place that night and watch dumb movies _about_ prom instead. No dressing up, no crowds, just hanging out and making fun of the people who _did_ go."

I tried to picture it - me and Jake, in ratty sweats. Sitting on his couch with a bowl of popcorn. Watching She's All That and Pretty in Pink and maybe Carrie. The image came so easily that I was surprised we _hadn't_ done it. "Okay, I would have agreed to that."

Jacob grinned with a hint of his old self. "I know you would have."

"So what then?"

"Well, after about three movies you would either be really sleepy or really hyper from the Coke and done that twitchy thing you do when you have too much sugar."

I frowned. "I don't have a twitchy thing."

"Yes you do. Your knee bounces after about three cans of soda. Two, if you've skipped a meal."

"Really?" I said, glancing down at my leg.

"Yep," Jacob said.

A tiny warmth flickered in my chest. "Okay, so, what happens next?" I asked, kind of enjoying the story in a strange way.

"Well, sleepy would have been okay," he said, closing the distance a few more steps. "You probably would have fallen asleep on my shoulder, or on the couch with your legs in my lap, and that would have been good, I would have liked that. But I was _hoping_ you'd be hyper, so I could convince you to go out and take a walk."

"On the beach?"

He nodded.

Another thing that was easy to picture, especially given the salt air and the sound of crashing waves at the base of the cliff. "All right, so, walking on the beach. And I'm hyper."

"And you'd be in a good mood, too," he added. "You like the beach."

I smiled. "Yeah, I do. So I'm in a good mood."

"Uh-huh." Jacob paused for a long moment. "Then I was going to kiss you," he said bluntly.

I couldn't stop my mouth from dropping open. "What, just like that?"

"_No._ I was going to wait for the right moment." His tone was defensive. "Or... or something close enough to the right moment. But unless you were actually running away, I was going to do it. I _was_."

I bit my lip.

"And after," he said huskily, "you were going to have that look. The one where you're thinking way too hard. So I was going to kiss you again."

Silence.

When I finally spoke, I could barely hear my own voice. "Then?"

I listened to him swallow. "Then... whatever you wanted."

It would have worked. The events would have unfolded just the way he'd imagined, I was certain of it. It would have been a memory now instead of just a picture in my mind.

Jacob was standing right in front of me. He took a deep breath, and I felt heat against my face when he exhaled shakily. Warmth positively radiated off of him.

_Different_, I told myself. Nervousness fluttered inside my ribcage, along with something else, something _lower_ that I hadn't felt in months and months, something I'd been _so _sure I would never feel again. _Not less. Just different._ I wasn't sure how Jacob's hot, inexperienced mouth would feel in comparison to Edward's sure but icy lips, but I wanted to find out. Badly.

"I could kiss you right now," Jacob whispered, "and you wouldn't push me away. Am I right?"

I nodded. There was no point in denying it.

"_Why?_ Three weeks ago you didn't even want me to hold your hand, and now you'll let me kiss you? _Now_ you want to 'try'?"

The warmth I had started to feel vanished instantly. I knew exactly where he was about to go with this. "A lot can change in three weeks," I said, trying to head him off.

"No kidding," he muttered. Then he backed away from me, and for a moment, I was sure I would scream or cry with frustration. He looked as miserable as I felt. "I love you, Bella." His voice was strained and his hands were shaking. "No big surprise, I know. But I do, and... and I pretty much did before, and I want _you_, all klutzy and messed up and with that thinking-way-too-hard look, not some brainwashed version of you that will let me kiss her because of some stupid mystical wolf thing. Maybe Sam and Jared don't mind it, but _I_ do."

"Maybe I want to kiss you!" I yelled. "Ever think of that?" Whole parts of me were cringing, old rotten parts that wanted to just give up and wallow in despair, and parts that were tiny and new and terrified of being crushed. "Maybe it's not that I'll _let_ you kiss me, maybe I just... want to."

Jacob's eyes widened, but he didn't relent. "Look, don't be mad, okay, Bells? I hate hurting you, I _hate_ it, but once I beat the imprint, _then_ we can do that - if, I mean, you still... but I'll figure it out. It'll be fine. It can be like before."

Something inside of me ached horribly. "No, Jake, it can't."

"Yes it can," he insisted. "I can fix this."

"Jacob-"

"I _can!_"

"Things are different now, Jake," I said, as gently as I knew how. "Lots of things. Too much has changed. It can't be like it was before... even if the imprint was gone. You can't fix that."

Jacob was silent for a moment, then shook his head. I couldn't read his expression, but his bitterness still came through loud and clear. "I thought _you_, of all people, would believe in me."

His words knocked the breath out of my lungs. "I didn't mean-"

"_Don't,_ Bella." A shudder rippled through his body, but it didn't last for long. Then he turned and started back towards the path. "I have to go run patrol."

"Sam didn't say it had to be you," I protested.

"I'm volunteering. Come on, I can't leave you out here alone."

I took a deep breath and stared out at the ocean, trying to school my features into something blank and neutral and keep the tears out of my eyes. For the briefest moment I thought I saw something strange out in the water, something like a flame, but when I blinked, it had vanished.

"Please, Bella," Jacob said, "let's go."

I followed him away from the cliff edge, back into the forest, and felt every inch of the distance he kept between us.

* * *

**_Coming Soon_**_: Insight_

_**Sanity Update**: It generally takes about three days to write a chapter. This one took two weeks to get a handle on. This is now me. _(http:) / (www) . (youtube).(.)com/ (watch?v=54y-Mjxz9vw&p_)_

_**Relatively Important A/N:** This story is about to go a bit more... adult... than I expected. Not lemons (sorry for anyone waiting on that) but violence. I thought long and hard about changing the rating, but then decided against it; it's nothing worse than the birthing scene from Breaking Dawn, so it's still within the bounds of Meyer-voice, but that was pretty intense. So, you know, heads up._


	11. Insight

_**The Disclaimer Strikes Back**: This may come as a shock to you, but there are parts of this fic that are directly lifted from New Moon and other parts of the Twilight saga. I know, I know, I'm just as surprised as you are. But those parts? They don't belong to me. And I'm not Stephenie Meyer, though I might go as her for Halloween._

* * *

_i get so tired working so hard for our survival / i look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive  
Sara Bareilles, "In Your Eyes"_

* * *

**10. Insight  
**

* * *

Jacob didn't come back to the bonfire. In the end, it was Embry that rode home with me as my bodyguard; I was silent, and he very wisely kept his mouth shut as well.

I phoned Billy and asked him to have Jacob call me when he got home. Billy took the message, but warned that he didn't think Jacob was likely to be in until very late. I said that I would pick up no matter what hour it was.

I watched a baseball game with Charlie, which at least seemed to feature a lot more strategy than simply running a ball back and forth. He explained some of the finer details, like the difference between a curveball and a changeup, until finally I asked, "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you sit on the couch?"

Charlie turned and gave me a strange look, but said, "Sure." He got out of the recliner and settled onto the sofa - then his eyes widened as I scooted over and leaned my head on his shoulder.

After a few long moments, my father gently stroked my hair. "Are you okay, kiddo?"

I nodded, knowing that if I tried to speak I would start to cry.

"Uh... do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head.

"Okay." And he continued to stroke my hair as he told me all about breaking sliders.

* * *

It was still midnight in the forest - the sky the deepest of blacks, but the moon full and shining. I stood in front of the dying oak again; the moss had climbed all the way up the trunk and was beginning to consume the branches.

I felt like I should do something, like there was some action I should be taking. _Something. _My hands twitched with it. I didn't want to peel away the moss, not anymore, but maybe I should water it? Or chop down the tree, let it rot on the ground?

But I left it alone. The moss and tree seemed to know what to do all on their own...

There was no _Missed Call _on my cell phone when I woke up.

* * *

I had hoped Jacob would come back in the morning for bodyguard duty, but that foolish optimism was quickly dashed; when I opened the front door just after Charlie had left for work, it was Jared who leaned against the frame looking like death warmed over. "Are you all right?"

He yawned. "Just tired. No big deal."

"Yeah, yeah, you're all big tough werewolves who don't need any rest," I said bitterly. I glanced down; he was still wearing those ridiculous - and now extremely dirty - tuxedo pants. It reminded me that I still hadn't found any shoes... but then an idea came to me. "Hang on for a minute, okay?"

"Sure," he said, rubbing his eyes like a little boy.

It took me a few trips through the house to find what I was looking for, but eventually I sat down on the stairs with everything I needed. I tossed Jared a can of Coke; he popped it open with a fizzy noise and drank it in one gulp. "Thanks," he said. Then he burped. "What are you doing?"

"Making shorts." Using a pair of fabric scissors, I cut a pair of Charlie's sweats just below the knee. He had a lot more spare sweats than shoes; he'd never miss them. When I was finished, I held the pants out with a smile - then faltered at the almost angry look on Jared's face. "What?"

"I don't need charity, Bella," he said coldly.

"It's not charity!" I protested, taken aback. "I just... thought you might want them, is all. So you wouldn't have to wear light blue anymore-"

"They're fine. I'll manage." I'd never heard Jared talk like this before... and I realized that I must have genuinely insulted him.

"Okay," I said feebly, lowering the sweats. "I'm sorry." I couldn't do anything right, anything _useful_, not even this. "I just thought... I mean, Emily bakes, and I'm sure Kim does something really helpful too, so I thought..." Whenever Edward had taken me to a fancy restaurant in Seattle, or offered to simply _buy _me a new car when my truck made the smallest rattle, I'd burned with the discomfort of the inequality. This was on a much smaller scale, but I still should have known better. "I'm really sorry. It was dumb."

After a long moment, Jared sighed and took the sweats from my hands. "I _did_ complain to you about these stupid pants, after all," he said grudgingly. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. Come on."

I stared at my feet as we walked to the truck; I was pretty sure the humiliated blush would never leave my face.

"Besides," Jared conceded as I pulled us out of the driveway, "you're right - Emily and Kim _are_ really helpful. So I can see why you'd want to do something too."

"What does Kim do?" I asked, figuring that would be a safe subject.

I was right - Jared lit up instantly. "Oh, she does _lots_ of things," he said enthusiastically. "I'm missing tons of school, and she's taking notes and catching me up and sending in my homework with my name on it. I didn't ask her to," he clarified, "she offered. I _definitely _would have flunked out by now if it wasn't for her."

"Oh." That seemed... well, like cheating. But considering Jared was out day and night risking his life to keep his people safe, a little leeway on schoolwork was hardly an unfair request. I wondered how Jacob would hold up once spring break was over. "That's really sweet of her."

"It is," he beamed. "She's always sweet. And she's _so_ smart, Bella. Whenever she explains stuff to me, it sticks. I could never remember how many electrons were in the different elements, but when she talks about it it just sinks in. She thinks she might be a teacher. She'd be a _great_ teacher."

I tried to imagine the girl from the bonfire standing up in front of a full classroom. It was difficult to picture, but maybe with some training she'd lose some of her shyness. "That sounds nice."

"And she talks _all_ the time," Jared continued to gush. "It's great. I have an awful day and then I go to see her, and she just goes on about happy things, or funny things, and then everything is so much better and I've forgotten whatever was making me upset. She's so good at that. I don't know what I'd do without her. Go crazy, probably."

I was no longer certain that we were talking about the same person. "I didn't realize Kim was so outgoing," I said neutrally, hoping not to offend. The last thing I needed to do was make Jared think that I was insulting his imprint.

"She's just quiet around the guys and Emily." Jared shook his head. "She's kind of scared of them 'cause she's younger. She's worried they'll hate her if she says something wrong. I've tried to tell her that there's nothing she says that's wrong and that _no one_ could hate her, but she's nervous anyway." He smiled at me. "She likes you, though, she told me."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad. She seems like a nice girl."

"She's the best," Jared sighed happily.

* * *

My plan had been to pretend like nothing had happened and act perfectly normal. I failed. Within minutes I found myself face-down at Emily's table, my forehead sticking to a placemat. "I'm ruining Jacob's life," I said morosely.

I felt a sudden warmth on one side of my face; Emily had sat a steaming mug of tea next to my cheek. "You're overreacting a little."

"No, I'm not. He's miserable. Everything I do is wrong. He's never going to speak to me again."

"I highly doubt that." There was a scraping noise; Emily was pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting in it. "Jacob is being an idiot, but he'll come around."

"He's _not_ being an idiot," I grumbled peevishly, raising my head. "Don't say that about him. _He's_ fine. It's me. It's all me."

Emily raised an eyebrow, sipped her tea, and said nothing.

"It _is_," I insisted.

"Okay," she said.

I sighed heavily and dropped my face back to the table. "He thinks I'm brainwashed," I whispered, my voice rendered indistinct by the placemat against my lips. "He thinks I don't believe in him."

"Well, he _is_ trying to do the impossible."

"Maybe it's not impossible," I said. "Maybe he _can_ beat the imprint, except now he can't do it because he thinks _I _think he can't do it, maybe he could do it if it wasn't for me-"

"Bella," Emily interrupted me firmly, "drink your tea."

I raised my head a second time, caught Emily's no-nonsense stare, and brought the mug to my lips. It was flavored with orange spice and a touch of honey and tasted, like everything from Emily's kitchen, absolutely delicious.

"I understand that Jacob is having a rough time," she said. "But what he's trying to do? It can't be done. It's not a matter of strength of will. You're his soul mate, and that's that. The imprint didn't _create_ that. It only showed it to him."

"But-"

"Keep drinking," she commanded.

I meekly took another sip of tea.

"This isn't your fault," Emily continued. "You didn't do anything. Jacob is just wasting his time and his energy because he can't admit he's wrong."

Indignation rose up in me - even though I'd said nearly the same thing to Jacob, it felt different coming out of someone else's mouth. It felt like an _insult_. Before I could get a handle on the sudden rush of anger, I snapped, "How would _you_ know whether fighting the imprint is a waste of time? You and Sam didn't resist it."

I regretted my rash words almost instantly; Emily's warm, open face went ice cold. "You think it was that easy?" Her voice was hard in a way that didn't suit her. "You think you know more about how this works than I do?"

I swallowed, but held my ground. Emily had taken her cousin's - her _best friend's_ - boyfriend, and no matter how nice she was, no matter how harsh or unfair the price might have been afterward, it was still _wrong_. "Jacob told me that Sam came to you the next day. That's hardly much of a struggle."

"Sam didn't understand what was happening," Emily shot back, and in her tone I heard the same fire I had heard in my own when she'd insulted Jacob. "Jacob and Jared benefited from what _he_ learned, just like in everything else. Sam phased alone, patrolled alone, and imprinted alone. Don't presume to know what he went through. And don't you _dare _judge him for not getting everything right."

"And what about you?" I retorted. "_You_ could have said no. You could have sent him back to Leah."

"It doesn't work like that, Bella."

"Jacob says it does."

"Well, _Jacob _doesn't know what the _hell_ he's talking about."

"At least he's _trying!__"_ She didn't get to talk about him like that. "That's more than _you_ did."

I watched as Emily visibly deflated in front of me. Her shoulders slumped and her breath left her with a long sigh as she lowered her eyes to her mug of tea. "You're right," she said quietly. "It is. I don't think it would have made any difference... but, yes. I could have tried."

I swallowed, feeling shaky and awkward as my flash of temper faded. "Why didn't you?"

She bit her lower lip - one side full and beautiful, the other side pulled into a broken, twisted slash. "Because I fell in love with him."

"That fast? You didn't even _know_ Sam."

Emily gave me a confused look. "Yes I did. He was with Leah for two years. Leah is - _was_ - my best friend. Do you think we would never have crossed paths?"

"Oh." I hadn't thought of that - though now that she mentioned it, I did recall Jacob saying something about Sam seeing Emily a few times before the imprint.

"I knew him," she continued. "We'd talked at family gatherings, things like that, and he was just... _so_... and a few times I almost thought..." Emily drifted off, then smiled sadly. "I was so jealous, you have no idea. I even stopped coming to visit because I was afraid Leah would notice."

This wasn't raising my opinion of the situation at all. "So you didn't mind stealing her boyfriend?"

"_No_," Emily said sharply. I noticed she was tracing her pinky around the edge of her cup, the one with the missing end. "I would _never_ have done anything. Even if their relationship had ended, Sam was completely off limits. I knew that." She swallowed. "But then... Leah started calling me. She said Sam had changed, that he was disappearing all the time, that he had this temper all of the sudden and wouldn't talk to her about what was wrong, that nothing she did seemed to help. She would yell about it, and sometimes she would cry...

"So I agreed to come visit. Take her out for some girl time, listen to her in person. And I was going to sit down with Sam too and demand he start treating her right." Emily reached across the table to grasp my hand, and her voice was desperate as she pleaded, "I _was_, Bella, I had no intention of anything else. You _have_ to believe me. No one else does. _No one_ knows what it's like except for you."

The sincerity in her eyes couldn't have been faked. I nodded slowly, and as she exhaled in relief and released my hand, I realized that Emily had been alone for much, _much_ too long.

"Then... it happened." Emily looked down. "I could tell something was...different... and I went back home right away. But Sam was there the next morning, telling me he loved me, that it was over with Leah, that he'd do _anything_ if I would just give him a chance..." She shook her head ruefully, lost her own memories. "I don't think he even knew what he was saying, honestly. He looked terrible."

My sympathy faded again. "So, what, you just-"

"I slammed the door in his face, Bella." She raised her eyebrows at me. "What else could I have done? I had no idea what to say. I left him on the porch and I called Leah." Emily looked sadder at this than she had at any point so far. "She started screaming at me. She thought that I'd been going behind her back, that all those times Sam had disappeared he'd been coming to _me_, that that was why I'd stopped coming to visit... I don't blame her at all. It was the only explanation that made sense." She looked away. "Of course, when word got out... everyone thought the same thing.

"And I was alone. Even my brother didn't believe me, and... and I was so _cold_, all the time..."

The cold. I shivered in sympathy, feeling the frigidness in my bones that no matter what, I couldn't adjust to. "So it does come from the imprint."

"If it makes you feel any better," Emily said, "it goes away after you stop fighting. Sam's body temperature dropped too; he's only about 104 degrees now. I think I take the extra."

Holy crow. "That's bizarre."

"The imprint wants to make sure there are no mistakes, I guess." Her face set in grim determination. "But I would have shivered forever, Bella. I would never have given in because of _that_. It was just... an uncomfortable side effect."

"So why did you?" I asked. I couldn't help but feel compassion for her. Emily was right - I was the only one who could understand _any_ of this, even if I couldn't understand _all_ of it. "Why did you give in?"

She shrugged. "Sam wouldn't go away. He practically lived on my front porch. He wouldn't give up. It was winter, and he'd just sit out there in the cold and snow, hoping I'd let him in. Eventually... I did." Emily smiled slightly. "I didn't want him to freeze to death. If he was going to be around all the time, I figured I ought to at least give him some soup. And then I just sort of... started letting him in every day, and we'd talk some, and it was so _comfortable_...

"By then he'd discovered the legends and figured out what had happened. Eventually he told me he was a werewolf - _that_ was a surprise," she said wryly, "and he started talking about _soul mates_ and how it meant that we were _supposed_ to be together. And I... I _wanted_ to say yes." She smiled again. "I'd always had a crush on him, and well... it's hard to resist that level of commitment and adoration."

"I guess," I said doubtfully.

"Anyway. I couldn't say yes, because of how much it would hurt Leah, but Sam could tell I had feelings for him and he didn't understand... that's how this happened," she said, gesturing at her face. At my look of horror, she quickly clarified, "He didn't hit me. It was nothing like that. He just got frustrated, and he didn't have nearly so much control then; you've seen how big they get, how fast it happens. I was standing close and he literally phased on top of me." Her smile turned grim. "It hurt. A lot."

I thought of the explosions I'd witnessed, how Jacob and Paul had rolled across the road, snapping and clawing, their enormous bulk almost beyond imagination. It was a miracle Emily was even alive.

"When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Sam was there, but he wouldn't even come near me. He just... sat in the corner and begged me to tell him what to do. That he'd go away and never come back. He offered to jump off the roof and he was deadly serious." Her eyes filled with tears again. "And Bella, he looked _just_ like he used to, back when we would just talk at Christmas and things like that, and it was the same as the way he looked when I gave him soup in the kitchen..." She shrugged. "I told him I didn't want him to go anywhere, and not to hate himself. It was an accident, after all.

"And once I told him not to leave... it just fell into place. Sam was right. This is the way things are supposed to be. The imprint doesn't create anything that couldn't have been there in the first place, it just... forces the issue, Bella. That's all."

I tried to put all of this together. It felt like it almost fit, _almost_... but something still eluded me. "No. No, that doesn't make sense. You didn't need any of that. They're supposed to be what _we_ want, right? Once you told Sam you didn't want him... he should have gone."

Emily shook her head. "That only works on little stuff. Orders don't affect the big things."

I frowned. "Jacob thinks it does."

"Jacob's wrong." I bristled, and Emily amended, "Jacob's _mistaken_. It's not his fault, pretty much everyone's got different ideas about how the imprint works." She ticked off her fingers. "Sam thinks it's about being what the imprintee needs. Jared and Kim... I have no idea what they think."

"I don't think they care one way or the other," I murmured.

Emily snorted slightly. "They're probably the lucky ones. Now, the Council - _they_ think it's driven by bloodlines. That the imprint matches people with the best genetic compatibility to create the next generation of werewolves."

My eyes widened, and I crossed my arms protectively over my belly. "_Babies_?_" _I squeaked. "This is about having _babies?_"

"According to the Council," Emily said. She glanced over my face, taking in my extreme paleness. "But, well, you sort of disprove that theory. Trust me, though, when all of this is over, _someone__'s_ going to be going through your family tree with a fine-toothed comb." I winced. That would be hard to explain to Charlie. "I didn't think they had it right, anyway. I mean, Leah's pedigree is better than mine. It would have made much more sense for Sam to imprint on _her_ if that was the way it worked."

"So what's _your_ theory, then?"

Emily paused for a long moment, then said, "I think Sam's got it backwards. It's not about _them_ being what _we_ need, it's the other way around. The imprint makes sure they don't miss the person that can _balance_ them the most." She shrugged. "The Council's got a point, after all: there has to be _some _kind of benefit to imprinting, or it wouldn't exist. We make them the best wolves they can be."

There were a hundred thousand things that confused me about that statement, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "So... Sam needs cake?"

"Yes." Emily smiled. "Sam needs cake. Sam needs cake and chicken and someone to tell him he has to take a night off. Sam needs normalcy. Sam needs someone to keep him _sane_."

This still didn't make any sense. "But I don't give Jacob anything," I said. Misery welled up in my throat. "I... I just take. I don't make him happy or cheer him up or do _anything_-"

"You broke your hand on my fiance's face defending him," Emily pointed out.

I flushed and held my cast to my chest. "I didn't think you knew about that."

"You didn't do him any damage. And I _told _him going to your house like that was bad manners, but he was in one of those 'I have to take care of every problem in the world _right this minute_' moods and he didn't listen to me. So it was a good lesson for him to learn." Emily studied me for a long moment, then said, "Jacob didn't phase until much later than anyone expected. He didn't phase because _you_ were making him so happy. You do something good for him. He wouldn't have imprinted on you otherwise. And you would be making him happy now if he wasn't so afraid."

I didn't think it was quite that simple.

I was new to this; I wasn't the cleverest, or the most intuitive person; I was broken and messy and painfully _human_ in this world of demigods. But one thing I _did_ know was Jacob, and no matter what the truth of imprinting was - whether it was about soulmates, or babies, or maintaining sanity - I knew he would never be happy with this. Not ever. He would never be okay with the issue being _forced_. And I wasn't all that sure _I_ was okay with it, either.

My life always seemed to come to impasses.

Emily was waiting for a response. "You see?" she said hopefully. "There's no reason for you to worry so much. Everything will work out the way it's supposed to."

I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." I hoped she couldn't tell that I was lying - or, in this instance, fudging the truth. I _did_ feel better. My head wasn't on the table anymore.

But I wondered if I was going to shiver forever.

* * *

After several hours of cleaning and organizing and tilling the bonfire ash back into the garden, Emily decided I _needed_ to know how to make a pie crust. She seemed to be determined to make up for the heated words we'd exchanged, and was ridiculously enthusiastic about the prospect of teaching me, in spite of my protests. Baking was simply not my strength. Eventually, I vowed, I would cook a lasagna for the pack, or maybe a meatloaf; I was sure it wouldn't be as good as whatever Emily could cook, but at least I would know _how_.

Something seemed strange about her, though. Every now and then her words would simply fade off, or her eyes would go unfocused. Then she'd shake herself and return right to whatever she had been doing.

It was beginning to make me nervous.

"Okay, now," Emily said, pushing a bag of flour to the side on the counter, "when you add the butter you have to-"

She stiffened, her hands halting in the bowl.

At the exact same moment, my cell phone rang in my pocket.

"Emily?" I said hesitantly, ignoring the ringing. "Are you all right?"

She didn't answer - but all the color drained out of her face, leaving her skin an ashen yellow that contrasted sharply with the scarlet red of her scars. Her eyes flicked to the door; I followed her gaze and glanced out the window, but I didn't see anything.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"What's wrong?" Was she having a seizure? I'd never seen anyone have a seizure. Did seizures look like this?

"Sam." This time she managed to make noise, her breath coming out in a tiny whisper.

A heavy weight began to press against my ribcage. _She'd know_, she had said. She would know if something was wrong.

"Emily, sit down before you fall down." I pulled a chair out from the table and tried to guide her into it, but she resisted, pushing my hands away roughly, leaving floury smudges over us both. She only had eyes for the front door.

"Sam."

The ringing stopped.

"Sam's okay, Emily, come on," I said, still trying to move her toward the chair. "I'm sure he's fine. It's... a false alarm, or something. Because we were talking about all those things." I was lying through my teeth, but Emily looked like she was about to pass out. "There's nothing wrong, don't worry."

I started checking my own feelings as fast as I could. The nervousness I'd felt earlier had deepened abruptly into sickening dread. Was that what it would feel like if something was wrong with Jacob? Would I know? Would I freeze up too? How was I supposed to know the difference between _normal_ worry and something worse? If something was wrong with Sam, how was it remotely possible that Jacob would be okay, too? Or was it really a false alarm after all?

I felt the breath start to leave my body - I began to get light-headed - was _that_ the feeling I should be looking for?

"_Sam..._" Emily was trying to get past me now, to go for the front door. I grabbed her arm and she shoved my hands away again, dodging my reach as I gasped, reaching for a chair. Why couldn't I breathe? Could Jacob not breathe? Or was I just panicking?

I bent over at the waist and forced oxygen into my lungs - one breath, in and out. Two breaths, in and out. Three. The fuzziness started to fade.

The front door slammed into the living room wall as Emily tore out of the house.

_Too much too much too much..._ I forced in another lungful of air, then made myself straighten up, and ran after Emily into the cool dark of evening.

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Options_

_**Sanity Update**: Whole chapter of explanation for Jasper - didn't care. Whole chapter of explanation for Rosalie - really didn't care. Whole chapter of explanation for Carlisle - really super extra didn't care. Sam/Emily/Leah triangle, and Meyer only gives us a couple paragraphs? Fuck that shit. If I'm getting all my backstories through exposition disguised as one-sided dialogue, then I want it to be about someone fucking interesting, goddammit! Why? Why did the saga not give us these things? Why do we still not know who Embry's father is? How could this fucking woman sketch out the beginnings of fucking interesting characters and then just fucking toss them aside like fucking garbage to fucking focus on a bunch of boring as shit motherfucking sparklepires? How? HOW? HOW CAN THESE BOOKS BE BESTSELLERS I DON'T UNDERSTAAAAAAANNNNND! (By the way, Oktoberfest is going on down the street. Do you know how hard it is to write about vampires and werewolves with the sound of accordions coming in through your windows? HARD.)_


	12. Options

_**Disclaimer of Doom**: The only direct lift in this chapter is from Breaking Dawn! How about that! Regardless, this fic is still written in the style of Stephenie Meyer, so I'm sort of lifting that, given that I am not Stephenie Meyer and this is nine kinds of NOT my writing style. Although I'm starting to have an identity crisis about that..._

* * *

_tendrás a tu hombre, piel morena / desde el cielo habló la luna llena  
Sarah Brightman, "Hijo De La Luna"_

* * *

**11. Options  
**

* * *

"Sam!" Emily called, her voice an octave higher than normal. "Sam!"

I ran out the door and promptly stumbled down the steps of the front porch. Emily stood by my truck, staring into the forest. "Emily?" I said hesitantly. What was I supposed to do? The first step was to get her out of the yard."Emily, listen to me, you should come back inside. I think-"

"There's something wrong with Sam," Emily said, still staring. "Something was wrong before and I didn't want to worry you but now something's _really _wrong and I can't..."

I came to her side and wrapped my left hand around her forearm, tugging hard. "Emily, please, listen, if there's something wrong the others will help, I'm sure he'll be okay." She shook her head. "Yes, he will, now come _on!_" The discomfort in my chest grew again - my breathing felt shallower and shallower. Was it Jacob? Was there something wrong with him, too? Could _he_ breathe? The anxiety felt like a living thing with teeth and claws, ripping up the lining of my lungs.

Emily froze again, her left eye widening while her right eye remained as immobile as ever. I followed her gaze, looking out into the trees... and immediately saw the large, dark figure approaching from the shadows.

I heaved a sigh of relief - part of me had been preparing to see death coming at us in the form of wild red hair and cat-like grace. "Look, Emily, see, it's Sam, I told you-" But even before I finished my sentence, I knew I was mistaken. The figure was too large, and it was moving all wrong...

"Can I get some help over here?" a hoarse, angry voice yelled at us.

With a choked noise, Emily ripped her arm out of my hand and took off into the forest. I followed as quickly as I could, losing ground as I tried not to stumble over rocks or fallen branches. Then a thick, rusty iron smell hit me like a slap to the face; my vision tunneled instantly; bile rose in my throat. I bent over at the waist and swallowed hard.

There was blood _everywhere_.

I heard Emily's sobs and a wet sound, then the angry voice again - "Bella, grab her! I can't hold him and fight her off too!"

I managed to look up.

Paul had one arm wrapped under Sam's shoulders, holding his limp body off the ground. Emily pressed against them both as she tried to take Sam from Paul, but there was no way she could support her fiance's weight; Paul was trying to hold her at bay with his free arm and staggering with the effort of handling them both. He was slippery; Emily's hands were slick; red rivers ran down Sam's naked skin.

"Damn it, Bella," Paul said desperately, catching my eye, "help!"

I forced myself to take a deep breath, then stood upright. The smell of the blood made my light-headedness worse by degrees of magnitude, but the rush of adrenaline helped keep me on my feet; I wrapped my arms around Emily's waist and pulled her away from Paul. She struggled against me, reaching for Sam. "Emily," I said, trying to sound both soothing and firm, "stop, stop it, calm down-"

"_Sam Sam Sam..._" The words came out of her mouth in a whispered mantra that scared me more than if she'd been screaming.

Then, to my utter shock, Sam raised his head - I hadn't even realized he was conscious. "Hi, Emily," he said. He tried to smile at her, then spat a mouthful of blood and something else onto the ground.

Emily moaned.

"Man, come on, work with me here." Paul's enormous frame was shaking under the effort of trying to force Sam's dead weight in the direction of the front door. "I can't carry you anymore, you have to walk, come _on_-" Sam obeyed, taking painful steps across the yard. At least Sam was working with Paul; I was fighting Emily every step of the way, her hands pushing at mine and her body twisting to escape my embrace. In the end I simply tightened my grip around her stomach and tugged her as hard as I could. It probably only took ninety seconds to get into the house, but it felt like an hour.

Once into the main room, Paul let Sam drop onto the couch, panting from the exertion. I gasped involuntarily as the extent of Sam's injuries became obvious - his left side had an open gash from hip to shoulder, as though someone had carved away part of his chest and gouged a deep canyon into his body. Between the blood coursing from his wound, I could see the pale, ghostly white of exposed ribs and sinew.

"Oh, Jesus," Paul whispered, and I realized this was his first good look at it, too.

"Towels," Emily said, racing towards the hallway. "I'll get towels."

I had to turn my head away before I fainted. "Shouldn't- shouldn't he be healing?" I managed to say.

"We heal _fast_, not _instantly_," Paul snapped, his face pale. "And he's been bleeding for awhile, he made it most of the way as a wolf but then he passed out, I had to carry him-"

"Then shouldn't we take him to a doctor?"

"And explain the hundred-and-eight degree temperature _how_, exactly?"

Sam coughed, and when he did, fresh rivers gushed from the canyon. "Paul," he gasped, "talk to them, find out where they are. Now."

_Jacob_. "Where's Jacob?" I asked Paul frantically. "And Jared and Embry? What _happened?_" But Paul was already out the door again, heeding his Alpha's orders.

Emily emerged from the hallway, her arms full of fluffy white towels. She knelt by Sam's side and pressed one against the wound. Sam let out a grating growl.

"Is he going to phase?" I said worriedly, taking a step back.

"Too weak," she murmured. "Sam, Sam, Sam..." Emily leaned forward and pressed her forehead against her fiance's, blood smearing scarlet stains across her cheek. Yet another scene too intimate to witness.

A sudden, piercing howl echoed from the front yard - which changed abruptly into a series of shouted profanities.

Sam tried to sit up, but the instant he did, he coughed out another mouthful of something crimson and solid and awful. Emily whimpered as she fought to hold him in place.

_Too much too much too much..._ But that didn't matter, did it?

I shook my head, trying to clear it before the tunnel vision got me. "Stay there," I told Sam, "I'll get Paul." And I dashed out the door, my feet slipping on the wet oak planks. _Emily's never going to get these stains out,_ I thought blankly, holding back a hysterical giggle.

Paul was naked and on his knees in the front yard, his fists against his temples, a string of curses coming out of his mouth. Terrified to come too close - he was shuddering and looked like he might phase again at any second - I called from the porch, "Are you okay?" I came down a few steps, trying to get a better look at his frame; it didn't look like he was hurt, but there was too much blood to be sure who it belonged to. "What happened?"

"I can't do it," he panted. "It's too _noisy_, there's too much screaming..."

My self-preservation instincts fell away as I ran to his side. "Screaming? What screaming? Where is everyone? _Where's Jacob?_"

The phone in my pocket began to ring again. I ignored it, I couldn't deal with it right now-

Paul groaned, shaking his head from side to side. "Something went wrong. We had her, Sam _had_ her, then out of nowhere everything went to hell... I can't hear what's going on!" His voice shook with frustration. "I'll try again, I will, just give me a second-"

"It's okay," I said blankly. Emily would know how to do this, to say something soothing that would help, but I wasn't her. It felt like whole parts of me were shutting down. "Just... take a deep breath, or something..."

To my surprise, Paul listened; he took a deep, heaving breath, and the shuddering of his body slowed. "Right," he said after a moment. "Okay. Okay. Back up." I scrambled out of the way, and Paul's shape exploded into the wolf, his gray fur still flecked crimson.

A low, pained growl came out of the animal's throat.

My phone kept ringing.

Barely a minute passed before Paul collapsed in on himself again, hitting the ground with a thump. "Damn it," he gasped.

"What? Was there still screaming?"

Paul got to his feet. "Hell yes. This was _not_ the time-"

"_Tell me what's going on!_"

But Paul pushed past me, striding back into the house. I followed on his heels. "Sam, Sam, can you phase? Come on, man, I can't do this, they need _you_-" Then he skidded to a halt, and I ran into his back. We looked on in horror at the scene before us.

Sam was _giggling_. The skin of his face had turned a sickly yellow. "It's okay, sweetheart," he said in between his strange, high-pitched laughter, stroking Emily's head with his right hand. His touch left a shiny wet trail through her hair. "Look, we match now." She nodded through her tears, her hands still pressing the now crimson towels into his open side.

The smell of rust again assaulted my nose, and I bent over, my hands resting shakily on my knees. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but I swore I could _taste_ the blood.

"Sam," Paul was saying, _pleading_, "you have to tell me what to do. You have to tell _us_ what to do. I don't know how to handle a new phasing. What do you want us to say to them?"

The truth of the situation dawned on me. "Quil. Oh, no, Quil phased while you were attacking Victoria?" Of _all_ the times-

Paul shook his head. "Not Quil. Someone else. _Two_ someones. I think... I think it's Seth and Leah Clearwater, but I can't tell for sure."

For the first time, Emily's eyes left Sam. She looked up at Paul in shock. "No. It can't be."

Paul threw up his arms in frustration. "I _know_ it can't be, but that's what it sounds like! Whoever it is, they are _freaked_, and there's something else, they're yelling about their father-"

"But Seth's too young, and Leah-"

"I know! But we haven't been watching them, we've been watching _Quil_, I have no idea whether they were-"

"Paul." Sam seemed to come back to himself for a moment, though his hand stayed tangled in Emily's hair. "Paul, send the others to find Seth and Leah." His words were labored. "Keep them safe until they calm down."

"What about the bloodsucker?" Paul asked. "I think- it was hard to hear, but I think they've still got a line-"

"We'll find her later. Get Seth and Leah before they-" Sam's words cut off in a sudden hiss, and he started to claw frantically at his side. Emily pulled her hands away with a jerk, but the towel stayed in place.

_The towel stayed in place._

"Rapid healing," I murmured, my stomach turning again. There were no words for this.

Paul met my eyes, and a horrified look passed across his face as he realized what he was going to have to do. I shook my head, then glanced pointedly at Emily; he blew out a breath and seemed to steel himself.

"Emily?" I said gently, going to her side. "Emily, come on, come here, okay?"

Sam was making a terrible noise, his fingers scraping at the towel stuck to his body. Emily shook me off. "No. Leave him alone."

"He'll be fine," Paul said bracingly. "Just give me a second with him."

"Emily." I wrapped my good hand around her forearm and pulled hard, but she didn't budge. I looked up at Paul helplessly. There was no way I'd be able to move her myself, and neither of us wanted her to see this.

He groaned. "Sorry, Em." Paul wrapped an arm around Emily's midsection and lifted her bodily away from the side of the couch; she fought him with a screech, but he was able to easily carry her out of the house.

"Emily?" Sam's voice was faint. "Where are you going?"

"She's just outside," I promised. "Don't worry. She'll be right back."

"So much blood," he muttered deliriously. "Emily... hurt her so bad..."

I pressed a hand to his forehead - even with his blazing hot skin, Sam felt warmer than usual. My palm came away red. The world began to spin; I had to look at the ceiling to stop myself from passing out. "She's fine, Sam. Emily's fine. It's not her blood."

"All my fault..."

Paul came back into the house and slammed the door; I heard pounding on the other side. He threw the locks and shot me a frantic look. "Talk to her, will you?"

"You _locked her out?_"

"Do you have a better idea?" he snarled.

I didn't.

Paul slid past me to take my place by Sam's side; I went to the front door and pressed my hand against it, listening to Emily's fists beat uselessly against the wood. She was too wild with fear to think of going around the back. "Emily?" I called hesitantly.

"Let me in! Bella, let me in!"

I glanced over at Paul, then looked away again just as quickly as I saw him hook his fingers under the edge of the towel. My eyes lit on the kitchen. "Emily," I said, willing my voice to be normal, "how much sugar did you put in your zucchini loaf?"

The pounding stopped. "What?"

"Your zucchini loaf," I babbled, talking as fast as I could. "The one you made on Monday, remember? It wasn't sweet enough? What if you added brown sugar? Would that help?"

"I- I don't know-"

"Does brown sugar work the same as white sugar?" I went on, trying to stay light, even though my breath didn't want to come into my lungs - and every breath I _did_ manage tasted like salted copper. "I was never sure what the real difference was, except that brown sugar is stickier. Does it matter which one you use?"

"Yes..." Emily's voice was faint and confused. "You... you can't use white sugar if-"

There was a sound like duct tape being torn away from a roll.

_"Sam!"_ A scratching noise against the door - Emily's fingernails. "_Let me in!_"

I glanced at Paul again - he nodded, standing up and throwing the dark crimson towel to the side. It hit the floor with a heavy slap. "It's okay," he said, his eyes glassy. "She can come in."

I pulled back the locks and opened the door; Emily shoved her way through, running past me to Sam's side. Paul patted her shoulder. "Blot," he said faintly. "Don't press. Just blot."

Emily nodded, picking up a new towel and patting it gently against Sam's wound.

Sam didn't move.

Paul walked past me, out the front door. I followed rather than listen to Emily's murmurs and whispered words.

We stood together on the front porch, gripping the weathered railing. Constellations were appearing in the sky on this rare, clear night, but clouds were forming on the horizon; the stars wouldn't be visible for much longer. The smell of the daffodils in the coffee cans contrasted sharply with the thick iron stink that covered us both. My entire body felt numb.

"Is he dead?" I asked Paul tonelessly.

Paul shook his head. "No. Not yet, anyway." Then he leaned over the railing and vomited into the bushes.

I reached up and rubbed the back of his neck automatically. "It's okay, Paul. You're doing good." My words felt hollow in my mouth. All I could do was act on instinct and provide the comfort that I hadn't been allowed to give until now. Hopefully it would be of some use, even if its intended recipient wasn't here.

Paul shook his head, still bent at the waist. "I can't do this. I can't even tell if the others are still phased, and Seth and Leah need _Sam_, not me or anyone else. He's the only one who'll get through to them right now. It's so _scary_ the first time... and the bloodsucker..."

"Well," I said listlessly, "Sam's not getting off the couch any time soon. So I guess it's just us."

He took a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah." He straightened up, pushing my hand away - but he wasn't rough. "You're doing good too, new girl," he said.

I shook my head. "Doesn't feel like it. I'm just trying not to pass out."

"Me too," he admitted. "If you want to throw up I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks." The odds were still pretty good on that.

Paul took another deep breath, then stumbled down the porch steps. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "Leave the bloodsucker. Go after Seth and Leah."

A cool breeze blew by, chilling my skin, blowing away some of the odor of blood. What were the others doing? Were they having trouble staying in wolf form, the way Paul was? Could they hear each other? Was Victoria pressing her advantage? Were they hurt? Were they even alive?

I wanted Jacob. I wanted Jacob. I wanted _Jacob_.

My phone rang. In a daze, I finally pulled it out of my pocket. Charlie_._ I answered just as Paul phased in the yard, his whole frame shaking with the effort. "Hi, Dad."

"Why haven't you been picking up, Bella?" Charlie growled.

My brain was having trouble comprehending both the sound of my father's hard tone and the sight of the wolf shuddering before my eyes. It felt like I was looking at the scene from outside myself, like I was just watching a movie and none of this was really happening to me. Things like this didn't happen in Phoenix. "Been busy," I said vaguely.

"Busy," Charlie echoed. "I see. Well, is Jacob with you?"

My heart clenched miserably in my chest. "No."

I heard a long, frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. "Okay. Billy thought he might be."

"He's not." Then a spark of emotion came back to me - along with a realization. _Billy._ "Dad," I said quickly, "is Billy there? Can I talk to him?" Billy was on the Council; Billy would know how to treat werewolves. Billy would know what to do for Sam.

But my hopes were for nothing. "He can't come to the phone. He's in with the doctor." I heard Charlie swallow. "Harry's had a heart attack. We're at the hospital now."

I gasped. "Harry... _what?_"

Paul's frame was shaking harder now, and a low growl was emerging from between his razor-sharp teeth, but he still seemed to be holding it together.

"He had a heart attack," Charlie repeated heavily. "And it doesn't look good, Bells."

"Oh, no," I moaned. Leah and Seth had been yelling about their father, Paul had said...

"Yeah." I overheard something strange - something tinny, like a speaker. The hospital intercom. "Look, Bella, I need to get back. Later I want you to-"

"When you see Billy," I interrupted desperately, "can you have him call Emily Young's house? It's _really_ important."

There was a very long pause. "Emily Young," Charlie said slowly. "Sam Uley's fiancee?"

"Dad-"

"Are you with _Sam Uley_ right now?"

Paul gave one final shudder, then lost his form again, turning human and hitting the ground with a loud thump. The breathless obscenities that came out of his mouth were ones I'd never even _heard_ in that combination.

"Dad, I have to go," I said. I didn't want to hang up, but there were only so many things I could deal with at once. "Just pass the message to Billy, okay? And good luck with Harry!"

"Bella-"

I hit 'End' and ran to Paul. "Did you hear them? Is everyone okay?"

"That... stupid... son of a bitch..." Paul panted, still on his hands and knees.

"_Damn_ it, Paul, tell me what happened!"

He groaned in pain. "It _is_ Leah and Seth, and they are _panicked_, they have _no_ idea what's happening and they're still screaming something about Harry-"

"Harry had a heart attack," I explained. "Billy and Charlie are at the hospital now."

Paul's eyes widened. "Oh, _shit._"

"I know. But what about Jared and Embry? What about _Jacob?_"

"They're okay. They're all still phased." Paul's sides were still heaving with the effort of breathing. "They're not having as much trouble as me. They _never_ have as much trouble as me."

I reached up and rubbed the back of his neck again. "They also didn't drag Sam however far and haven't been dealing with all this," I pointed out. "Don't feel bad. Did they hear you?"

"Jared and Embry did. Embry's chasing down Leah. Jared went to look for Seth, seems like he's trying to hide."

"And Jacob?"

Paul growled. "The dumbass is still chasing the bloodsucker."

My stomach dropped. "_Why?_"

Paul tried to get to his feet, but gave up after a moment, holding his head in his hands. "Jesus, they gave me a headache," he muttered. "Sounds like Sam _did_ get a really good hit on the leech - got a chunk out of her or something - and Jacob thinks he can catch up. I can't _make_ him let her go, I'm not Alpha, he doesn't _have_ to listen to me."

I moaned. Jacob _would_ do that.

Paul shook his head several times, like he was trying to clear it. "I can't do anything else," he said angrily. "This is all I've got."

I swallowed back my terror. "They're going to go get Seth and Leah," I said. "That's the important thing. That's what Sam wanted."

"Sam wanted _all_ of them, and I _couldn't_-"

"Jacob's stubborn," I told him faintly. "Don't take it personally."

Paul muttered a few more vulgarities under his breath, and I wedged my shoulder under his arm to help lift him to his feet. I wasn't really strong enough to support him, and he wasn't really leaning on me that hard, but at the moment we were in this together and that was all that mattered.

As we staggered back to the house, I wondered whether Sam was dead - and if he was, if Emily had even realized it.

Emily was still kneeling next to the couch, dabbing carefully at Sam's side - and Sam at least appeared to be breathing, though unconscious. "I can't stop the bleeding," she said as we came in, her voice choked. "I keep trying, but if I hold the towel too long it _sticks_."

Paul made a strange noise, and before I knew it he was in the kitchen, hacking into the sink. I couldn't blame him. I hadn't even been able to _watch_ what he'd done before, let alone do it myself.

I looked down at the mess on the floor, the soaked towels, the streams still running out of Sam's torso. "How can he be bleeding that much?" I said, stunned. "I mean, by now shouldn't he-"

"He's regenerating the blood," I heard from the kitchen. "Can't do it forever, though, he's-" The sentence ended suddenly with another round of hacking.

"Do you have any other bandages, Emily?" I asked. I was beginning to adjust to the rusty smell. "Something left over from when you-"

She shook her head, still mopping up Sam's side in automatic movements. "No, I... threw them all away once I didn't need them, I didn't want to look at them anymore..."

I winced. "Okay." And I tried to force myself to think rationally through the madness that surrounded me.

Sam needed bandages. Real bandages. Something that would staunch the bleeding but wouldn't knit _into_ his wounds as he healed. Bandages that Emily didn't have in the house. So someone would have to go get them. Sam was unconscious - not him. Paul was shaking with exhaustion and throwing up in the sink - not him either. Emily was trying to take care of Sam and would have to be dragged away - not her.

Well, only one other option. "All right," I said, "I'll be right back."

Paul looked up incredulously from the sink. "What? Where are you going?"

"Someone's got to get supplies," I explained, fishing my keys out of my pocket. "So I'll do it."

"But the bloodsucker-"

"Jacob's chasing her, right? She won't get me." I did my best to sound confident, even as tendrils of fear started to wind their way through my body. I knew the risk I was about to take... but we were already too low on choices. "Besides, do you have better idea?" I asked, throwing Paul's words back at him.

He groaned. "Wait, just wait, I'll come with you-"

"Someone's got to stay here and protect them," I said, pointing at Emily and Sam. "I'll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, Billy might be calling, so... hopefully he'll be able to come help."

Paul nodded weakly.

"Good. Just... just hang on." I spoke more in the direction of Sam than either Paul or Emily, but the words could have applied to any of them. They could have applied to me, too, for that matter.

Once I was in the truck, I wasted a precious thirty seconds of time resting my head on the steering wheel, trying to get my breathing under control and fight off my own dizziness and nausea. I hadto do this. I had to _focus. _Once I was reasonably confident that I could drive, I turned on the engine, pulled out of the yard, and headed for the general store through the darkness of early night... knowing that the vampire who wanted me dead had finally broken through the lines.

I had hoped - maybe it was a stupid, naive hope, but a hope nonetheless - that I would at least make it to the store. I hoped that if Victoria caught me, it would be on the way back; that way, Paul could at least dash down the road once he had the strength and get the bandages out of the truck.

But I'd only gone three miles before a figure with vibrant red hair appeared in front of my headlights.

My last, vague thought before the grill crashed into that marble body was that Jacob might have some trouble fixing the truck this time. Then everything dissolved into black nothingness.

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Endgame_

_**Sanity Update**: Is there any better feeling in the whole world than the moment something you're writing comes together? When you've been working on something, working and working and working, and you know you're coming up on an important spot and, well, you've got plenty of ideas, but none of them have felt quite right, but then WHAM! out of nowhere it's just THERE and you can SEE it and it's absolutely perfect? God, it's SUCH a high. Of course, then your tired, cranky, headache-y brain goes, "Dude, there. I've given you the story. Isn't it pretty? Don't you love the symmetry of it? Now that you know how that last scene goes... do you REALLY need to write it? I mean, isn't closing your eyes and picturing it good enough? Please leave me alone now." And you suddenly realize that even though your story is in the best place it's been yet... you've got writer's block. This fic is killing me. Also I realized this week that I've been writing between 1.5 and 3k words a day for the last five months (aside from a two week vacation in July). Perhaps this is why I am so tired._


	13. Endgame

**_Disclaimer - Back in Action_**_: I am lifting bits of the Twilight saga for use in this fic. I do so shamelessly and without apology, in spite of the fact - yes, in **spite **of the fact! - that I am not Stephenie Meyer. If I was I'm pretty sure my husband wouldn't have married me; his refusal to wear body glitter would have been a deal breaker._

* * *

_no wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold / nothing satisfies me but your soul__  
Jen Titus, "O Death"_

* * *

**12. Endgame**

* * *

"Bella! _Bella!_"

"Hush. She's fine. You worry too much."

Voices. A throbbing in my head. Wind blowing across my face.

"Get your hands _off-_"

"Calm down, little puppy. Wouldn't want to lose our temper, now, would we?"

The smell of salt. The crashing sound of waves. Cold moisture seeping into my back through my clothes.

"Stop it, stop it, _stop it, don't touch her-_"

"Oh, good lord, child. I'm only waking her up. You're going to give yourself an ulcer."

Icy water dripped onto my face. I flinched away from it, and a pleased, babyish soprano said, "See, there, I _told_ you that would do the trick! So much fretting for nothing."

I pretended not to hear. I felt fuzzy and disoriented, but I still knew that nothing good could come of waking up. I wanted to stay in the pleasant oblivion of midnight. It was better than the alternative... because even though I'd never heard it before, I could guess at the owner of that voice. I didn't want to open my eyes and have my fears confirmed. Better to stay in the darkness.

"Come now, Isabella Swan, you can't fool _me_. I know you're awake."

Then I heard a strangled noise that resembled my name - a noise that finally motivated me to return to consciousness. _Jacob._ Jacob was here. Was he hurt? What was she doing to him?

I opened my eyes, and there it was: the beautiful feline face, the bright orange hair, the vivid red eyes. "There we go," Victoria crooned gently. She was crouching by my side. Frigid cold seeped into my body as she stroked my matted hair back from my forehead. "How are you feeling?"

I blinked several times, trying to bring the world into focus as a granite hand at the small of my back helped me into a sitting position. Wet sand stuck to the palm of my left hand. The beach. I was on the beach, near the shoreline. The surf lapped close to my legs, only a few feet away - it had been ocean water that Victoria flicked onto my face. The last pale light of evening was long gone; I must have been unconscious for quite awhile.

"I heard Jacob," I croaked. The pain in my head was lessening, but the disorientation grew worse. I felt dizzy, but strangely calm. "Where is he?"

Victoria shook her head, and her flaming curls jostled around her elegant face. "The two of you get _so_ apprehensive." She pointed towards the forest's edge. "No need to worry, Isabella, your wolf is right over there."

It took me a moment - my eyes seemed to need extra time to adjust to the darkness, even with the waxing moon glowing behind light clouds - but then I saw him. Perhaps forty feet away, Jacob paced back and forth, his bare feet shifting on the dry sand. Another moment of focusing, and I could see how badly his body was shaking. My voice cracked as I called, "Jacob?"

For a moment his entire shape _rippled_... then with a low growl and clenched fists against his temples, Jacob coalesced back into himself. He didn't come any closer. Why wasn't he coming any closer?

I struggled to stand. If Jacob wouldn't come to me, then I would go to him. But I underestimated my own dizziness; no sooner had I raised myself to my knees than I collapsed backwards again with a moan, the world spinning around me. I had to have a concussion, at the very least.

When I fell, Jacob took an involuntary step toward me - but at a quick glance from Victoria, he retreated. And he resumed his pacing.

"I would be careful with the puppy," Victoria whispered next to my ear. Her cold hand climbed up to rest gently against the base of my neck. "He's under a bit of stress right now."

Somewhere inside I could feel the steady throb of panic, but it didn't reach my senses. My limbs were relaxed; my mind was tranquil. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," Victoria said innocently. "Nothing at all. He just doesn't care for the rules of our little game. It's a shame; if not for challenges and sport, life really wouldn't be much fun."

A game. She wanted to play a _game_. This was James' mate, all right.

Swallowing down nausea, I fought to stand again. If I was standing, there would at least be a chance - however small - that I would get to run. Escape was impossible from a sitting position.

Victoria watched my awkward movements with surprise. "Don't push yourself, Isabella. You did take quite a hit to the head. It would be unfortunate if you fainted again; I don't think the boy can manage for much longer."

"Come and get me," Jacob spat at her. "I'll manage _just fine._"

"I'm okay," I said. My vision blurred again as I put my good hand down into the wet sand to lift myself. I tried to push away Victoria's assisting lift on my elbow. "I can do it," I insisted.

"Don't be petulant," Victoria admonished me as she helped me to my feet. I'd forgotten her height, and had pictured a warrior woman in my mind; in reality she was only a few inches taller than myself. That, combined with the bubble-gum girlish voice, added to my hazy bewilderment. "I have to apologize, by the way, for your head. I didn't expect you to drive _into _me; you're very lucky not to have been injured worse. Or, rather," she smiled, "_I'm_ very lucky."

I tried again to take a step toward Jacob, but her solid fingers tightened against the base of my skull. "Tsk tsk tsk. None of that, now."

Jacob's strides grew longer, his pace more frantic. "Bella," he called, his voice desperate.

"I'm all right," I replied, answering his unspoken question. Once again I had that strange, disconnected feeling, as though I were watching these events unfold from outside myself. I was only a witness, not a participant. There was nothing to be frightened of.

"How's your balance?" If it hadn't been for our circumstances, Victoria would have come across as a caring, consciencious friend, perhaps even a sister. Maybe this was all a dream. If it were real life, surely I would be afraid of her; instead, her tone soothed me. "Will you be able to support yourself, or do you need my help?"

I would have shaken my head, but I couldn't move it while I was in her grip. "I'm fine."

She paused for a moment and gave me an assessing look. "I must say, you're holding up better than I expected," she said finally. "Last year you ran; now you stand. I underestimated you and I don't do that often. I am quite impressed, Isabella Swan."

I felt a strange, glowing flush of pleasure at her words, and found myself smiling happily.

"Whatever you're doing to her," Jacob yelled at Victoria, his shape rippling again, "_stop it_, or I swear I'll kill you as slow as I can."

Victoria laughed, and the sound _rang _- not tinkling wind chimes, but soft, mellow church bells. "Temper, temper," she warned. "I promise, you'll get your chance. Just be _patient_, little one."

Jacob growled in response.

"Besides," she continued, "I'm not doing a thing. Your anxiety issues are appalling. If you live, you should probably see someone about that." She smiled. "Maybe Miss Swan can stand on her own feet after all, did that occur to you?"

The pride in my chest swelled. It really was an amazing thing, if someone as lowly and _human_ as me could earn the approval of a goddess. Except something tickled at the back of my mind - Jacob knew me, he knew me better than anyone. He would know if there was something wrong, wouldn't he?

No. There was nothing wrong. Nothing bad was going to happen, I knew it. Victoria wouldn't hurt us.

"Are you ready for me to explain the game?" Victoria said, still smiling. Her serene expression had an unreal loveliness about it, like a Renaissance portrait. I felt myself calming even further, my mind sedated-

Sedated.

_I'm the world's best predator, aren't I?_ Edward had said. _Everything about me invites you in - my voice, my face, even my smell._

I took a deep breath - and inhaled the sweet, intoxicating scent of vampire.

Everything clicked into place. My brain began to function, even if my senses didn't; the unnatural calm remained as I started to work through the puzzle. _This_ was why I wasn't consumed with terror: the predator was made to keep me close. Victoria was pressed against my side, and at such close range, her mind tricks were keeping the hysteria at bay.

What was more, she didn't seem to realize it.

Well, it was something. "Okay," I said, foggy but not frightened. "Go ahead and explain."

"That's a good girl, Isabella." One cold finger stroked along my hairline. "See your wolf?"

I nodded. Now I noticed the racing of my heart, the sweat on my face. My hands shook uncontrollably. It was such a _strange_ sensation, to have the knowledge that frenzied horror was racing through me but to not _feel_ it. "I see him." Of course I saw him. How could I not see Jacob?

"If he comes closer, or takes on his alternate form, I'll break your neck," Victoria said softly. Her hand clenched just a hair tighter against my spine. "Do you know it isn't really like snapping a twig? It's more like a carrot, or a celery stick. It's _wet_."

A low, pained sound carried to me across the sand. _I_ might be drugged, but Jacob was staving off panic by the skin of his teeth. I was a hostage and it was killing him.

"He's fast," I argued. "He'll kill you."

"But not before _I _kill _you_," she retorted. Her fingers tightened another fraction of an inch; I could feel a dull pain. There would be five little bruises left behind... if _anything_ was left behind. "He knows that. _You_ know that."

Unfortunately, I did know that; Jacob was quick, but he'd still have to phase and make it the short distance. Victoria's hand was around my neck - all it would take was one quick movement of her marble wrist. There was no chance, none, that he'd get to me in time. "But he'll kill you once I'm dead," I pointed out.

"Do you think so?" she said pleasantly. "It's certainly possible. I've been watching him in action for awhile. He's talented for his age. But, Isabella, look at him." She brought her mouth to my ear and whispered, "_Really_ look."

I looked.

Jacob paced across the sand, muttering something under his breath. He moved like an animal, all light footfalls and tense muscles, his entire body vibrating with what I knew had to be the sheer _effort_ of keeping from phasing. He was furious, that much was obvious; everything in his entire being had to be telling him to explode into the wolf and and rip apart his mortal enemy. His eyes kept flicking from Victoria to me and back again, waiting for the smallest opening. Only his terror for my life was keeping him in one piece... but that desire to protect his imprint would surely be steadily feeding his rage as well.

It was only a matter of time before Jacob lost control.

"I think he _likes_ you," Victoria said in a little sing-songy voice. She shook me by the neck, very slightly, and Jacob moaned; his pacing sped up to beyond the bounds of normal human capability. "Think of what will happen to him when he sees me drop your broken body onto the sand. Think of how he'll _feel. _Do you honestly believe he'll be able to fight me after that and win?"

My mouth went dry. I knew the answer to that question. "Then the other wolves will kill you," I argued. Once Jacob phased, he'd be able to call to them; even with the nightmare they were currently living through, the pack would come running. If Jacob could hold it together - if we could stall for time - they might even figure out what had happened to us _without_ being called. "You won't get away."

Victoria paused, then let out a sad sigh. Her breath was intoxicating, and I suddenly felt sorry for her pain; I squeezed my eyes shut and fought off the unwelcome emotion. "They probably _will_ kill me," she conceded. "But I will have had my justice, and that's the important thing. James is gone. Eternity no longer sounds appealing. Though," she said, "before I go, I wouldn't mind a bit of retribution for _this_." She gestured to her left side, and for the first time I looked down.

Victoria had a hole in her abdomen. An gaping hole, at least three inches deep; it spanned from her stomach to her hip. Her torn clothing fluttered in the light breeze, and everything inside of her was still and unmoving, exactly as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to a marble statue. Something dark and silvery dripped off of the jagged edges of her innards.

Sam _had_ gotten a hit.

"This is going to be very inconvenient," she continued. "And I _liked_ this shirt. Is he dead, by the way?" she asked casually. "The one who did this. I can smell his blood all over you. It's revolting."

"I don't know," I said. I couldn't see how Sam could still be alive, but then again, he should never have made it off the forest floor in the first place. Werewolves were strong. "Probably."

Victoria hummed slightly. "Almost a pity. I would like to have ended him in person. He's been quite an annoyance." She shrugged. "Oh well. Now that you understand your situation, are you prepared to play?"

I felt like the blood was draining out of my head into my feet; the world began to spin again. I wanted to sit, but I needed to remain standing. "If you're just going to kill us both, why should I?"

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Kill you both? Oh, no, Isabella Swan, don't you understand? Only _you_ have to die."

Jacob came to a halt at her words; his shape expanded around the edges into the night air before he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled himself together again. Then the pacing resumed. He seemed to be beyond coherent speech.

"But your wolf, well... I could break a few of his legs. Hit him on the head. Incapacitate him, certainly, but there wouldn't be any long-term damage. _He_ can live... if you want him to. It all depends on whether you play by the rules."

The horror trapped inside my body flared, burning through my veins and into my racing heart. I'd gotten it wrong, all wrong. I wasn't the hostage. _Jacob_ was.

I swallowed hard and took another breath. Victoria's perfumed smell relaxed me and pushed the horror back down; I needed the space to think. It wouldn't do any good to fall apart now. "Why should I believe you?" I said, and thankfully my voice didn't shake.

"My word is good." She sounded shocked that I would have imagined otherwise.

I watched Jacob move; his eyes were on Victoria now more than they were on me. He wanted to destroy her; not only was she his natural adversary, she was a danger to the thing that mattered most to him in the world. If he was here, there would be nothing I could say or do to save him. Broken legs or broken skull, he would fight her until she took the last breath from his body.

But he didn't _have _to be here. There was an easier solution to all this. Victoria wanted _me_, not _him_. She would never leave my side to pursue someone who meant nothing to her beyond a bargaining chip.

I had to break my promise again.

"Jacob," I said with the most commanding tone I could muster, "_run_."

He came to a sudden halt. I watched as he took a half-step backward... then clenched his hands into fists. His fervent, frantic stare felt like fire across my cold skin. "No," he rasped. "_No_."

The hope that had briefly risen in my chest died abruptly. Apparently leaving one's imprint to be killed counted as one of the 'big things' that orders couldn't control.

"Bella." I heard him murmur my name, then repeat it over and over under his breath, a mantra that seemed to bring him back into focus. For the first time, Jacob stood still. For the first time, he was focused only on me.

Victoria glanced back and forth between us, clearly intrigued. "Well. He's a bit more than just an interested party, isn't he?" She giggled, a chirpy little sound that matched her girlish voice perfectly. "You surprise me again, Isabella Swan. Have you told your mate about this yet?"

My eyes filled with tears - Jacob was going to watch me _die_; even if by some miracle he lived, he would never recover - but even as they spilled over, I felt nothing but that strange, perverse calm. "All right," I said, still looking at Jacob. "What do you want?"

Victoria paused, then gave a soft, pleased sigh. "I have to say," she remarked, "I'm not sure I even deserve this. I've made _so_ many mistakes. Do you know, I let Edward Cullen track me all the way to South America before I realized he hadn't taken you with him?"

I blinked, startled. "What?"

"I have to admit it. I was blinded by my own desire for revenge; I didn't take time to think. It _never_ occurred to me that he would leave his mate behind. A risky gambit, but it worked... for awhile, at least." She leaned her icy cold cheek against the top of my head, and the tips of her fingernails dug into the skin of my throat. "After all, here we are."

"Here we are," I echoed blankly. The sound of the crashing waves behind us seemed to reverberate through my skull.

"And then, once I figured out you were still here, I found you protected by a pack of shape-shifting wolves!" She shook her finger disapprovingly at Jacob. "Who, might I add, _murdered_ Laurent. I don't take kindly to people who kill my friends."

The day in the meadow. The russet-brown wolf who stared at me hungrily and took a step away from my side. How could we be here, now, about to die under the hand of a honey-voiced murderer who'd set up a fixed game we couldn't win?

My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

"If I hadn't seen the two of you on the cliff, I would never have figured out how to make this work, how to get you to _obey_ rather than just rip you apart once I found you," she continued with a little smile. "And even _then_ your dogs would certainly have killed me if they hadn't suffered such fits this evening. _He_-" she gestured at Jacob, who growled "- was the only one who followed. And here I thought I'd have to lure him away... but look how it all worked out. So perfect. _Too_ perfect. So you know what I think, Isabella Swan?" She leaned in to whisper in my ear; her sweet breath fanned across my face. "I think fate is on my side. The side of _justice_ and _right_. That's why we're here. It's the only explanation."

"Just tell me what you want, Victoria," I said, hating her and yet cut off from my hate like a nerve had been severed.

She smiled charmingly, her even white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Then with a swift movement she reached to my front - Jacob tensed and crouched - and ripped open the front pocket of Emily's hoodie. The contents spilled into the wet sand. In the same instant she pushed hard on my neck, and I fell to my knees.

"Call him," Victoria said, nodding to my cell phone. "Call Edward. Call him so he can listen to you die."

I froze. "What?"

"Call him," Victoria repeated, her voice finally taking on an edge. "If you don't, I'll kill you and then rip your wolf into pieces. Edward should have to _hear _his mate's death, but I can accept having him find about it second-hand. Maybe literally. I could mail him your fingers."

"Just try it," I heard Jacob growl. I glanced up at him - his outline was blurring constantly now, like a watercolor in the night air. Once again he only had eyes for Victoria.

He couldn't do this for much longer.

"I can't call Edward," I whispered. "I don't know his number."

Victoria observed me quietly for a moment, then remarked, "You know, I've destroyed shape-shifters before. They tend to revert to human once they're seriously injured. But if I killed your wolf _fast_ enough, do you think I could skin him? His pelt is _such_ a lovely color, it would make a beautiful coat."

For some reason, I couldn't inhale. The air wouldn't come into my lungs.

"Come and get me, bitch," Jacob shouted, "and we'll see who scalps who." His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, and every few seconds I swore I could see claws.

"You don't understand," I insisted. My heart raced, my vision swam, my breath caught. The terror inside was dangerously close to overwhelming the vampiric hold Victoria had over me. "I don't know how to get in contact with him. He left, but not to protect me. He just... got bored." I was vaguely aware of some dull pain in my chest as I said those words. "I _can't_ call him."

There was a long moment of silence as Victoria considered my words - silent, that is, except for the sound of the low growls coming from Jacob. Finally, she said, "I don't believe you."

The panic welled up higher, fighting to break through my sedation. It hadn't occurred to me that Victoria might ask for something I couldn't provide. "I'm telling the truth."

"No," she said coldly, "you're not. You're his mate. He would never have left you entirely unguarded. He would have given you some way to get ahold of him in an emergency. You're protecting him."

"I'm _not!_" Was that my voice that was sobbing? "I swear I'm not. I'm not his mate. He doesn't love me anymore. He left. I haven't spoken to him in months. Don't kill Jacob, please, I can't give you what I don't have!"

"_Liar_." Victoria crouched next to me, her snarling face inches from my own. Even in murderous rage she was hauntingly beautiful. "_We don't fall out of love. We don't move on._ Humans change, but _we do not_. I will see James' face every moment for the rest of my existence, just as Edward will hear the sound of your neck snapping until his body crumbles into dust. _That_ will be justice." She grabbed the back of my neck again, roughly, and pushed my head down until my nose was an inch from the phone. "_Call him_ or the game ends _now_."

"Stop touching her_!_" Jacob shouted. He stepped forward, and Victoria snapped her head to the side to face him.

"Back up," she said menacingly. And she kept her eyes on him until he retreated.

She kept her eyes on _him._

The fog in my brain - the unnatural calm - gave me the space to think. Just barely.

Victoria claimed she would kill me the instant Jacob moved, but her instincts were as strong as his: she would face her natural enemy. She would still break me apart before Jacob could get close enough, but she would look away first. Just for a moment.

And right in front of my face, lying on the sand next to the cell phone, was Embry's lighter.

Something silvery dripping in her side. Better than gasoline.

It would have to be fast. It would have to be _so_ fast, almost certainly faster than I was capable of. But Jacob and I were both going to die anyway, weren't we? It wasn't like there was anything to lose. But first I needed a distraction - a _big_ distraction.

I looked up at Jacob. _Phase,_ I thought at him as hard as I could. I didn't think telepathy was part of our mystical bond, but I tried to tell him with my eyes what I needed him to do, to mouth the word slightly on my lips. _Phase._

He didn't look at me. He only saw Victoria. He could only see the threat to his imprint.

I was out of options.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll call Edward."

Victoria glanced back to me approvingly. "Good," she said, her voice compassionate and girlish again. "I knew you would see reason."

I nodded, then forced my panicking body to inhale a few times. To hold in as much of that drugging scent as I possibly could... because I was going to need it. "But I think you're just jealous," I said.

Victoria smiled in amusement. "Oh, am I."

"Yeah." I swallowed. Here went nothing. "Because _I_ saw James in the end and you didn't."

Her expression hardened. "Cute," she spat. "Trite, but cute. Do you really think such a cheap little trick will work on me?"

"Did he leave you anything to remember him by?" I continued, calm even though I was shivering convulsively. I didn't know if I could do this. "Because _I_ have something _you_ don't." I lifted my right arm, and Victoria's eyes went to it. "Look," I said, nodding to where the edge of James' scar peeped out of my cast. "He bit me. _I_ get to see him every day."

A crazed light came into Victoria's face as she bent to examine my fingers.

"Bella!" Jacob shouted desperately. His entire body quivered. "What are you _doing?_"

My left hand brushed over the cell phone and closed around the lighter.

"I see," Victoria said softly, trailing her frigid thumb across the exposed tissue. She looked up from the cast to meet my eyes with reverence as her fingernails dug into my skin, and I realized she was about to rip the scar right off my bones. "Thank you, Isabella Swan. I will carry this mark with me always."

Then she tightened her hand around my cast, crushing the plaster with a sickening crunch and driving it into my still-broken bones. I cried out in pain.

The next moment seemed to last for an eternity.

At the sound of my cry, Jacob finally lost control and exploded into the russet-brown wolf with an ear-splitting roar-

-Victoria looked up from my arm-

-pain shot through my right hand and I clicked on the lighter with my left-

-the wolf's paws flew across the sand-

-Victoria whirled to face her enemy-

-and I jammed the lit lighter into the gaping hole on her side.

Spots exploded in my vision. Everything became blindingly bright, and I tumbled backward as something hot and soft brushed across my face. Strange light flickered before my eyes and there was fur and flame and sand everywhere, then almost immediately a chorus of faint, furious howls in the distance, and screaming, so much _screaming_...

...my throat hurt, and my head, and my hand, no, my _hands_...

I looked down.

My left hand was on fire.

I rolled a few feet and pushed my arm into the surf as flaming meteors flew through the sky, and then I passed out for the second time that day.

* * *

**_Coming Soon:_**_ Visitors_

_**Sanity Update**: My throat is sore and I'm running a fever. I am sure this is Stephenie Meyer's fault. I should have arranged for a medical researcher to follow me around while I wrote this fic, because we may have been able to conclusively prove that the Twilight Saga lowers antibody levels in the human bloodstream. Is there any other explanation for my chronic physical sufferings? I think not, ladies and gentlemen. I think not. (And for the record, I don't give a shit that this isn't the Victoria Meyer gave us in Eclipse. I'm considering Eclipse!Victoria as one of the "Meyer going OOC with her own creation" canon violations. Two books of build up for twelve pages of fighting and one damn line of dialogue? Huge disappointment. So fuck it. This is what I expected Victoria to be, and so that's how I'm fucking writing her.) (Also, yes, the song is my Supernatural fangirl coming out again.) _


	14. Visitors

_**The TV Series based on the Disclaimer**: There are parts of this fic that are lifted directly from New Moon and other parts of the Twilight Saga. Any or all vomiting that may be induced is the fault of Stephenie Meyer - a person who is entirely separate from me in all ways._

* * *

_and every sun ascending / a lonesome moon will grow  
Bat For Lashes, "Sleep Alone"_

* * *

**13. Visitors**

* * *

I woke to the familiar smell of antiseptic.

"Bells?"

I blinked groggily. "Dad?"

Charlie's face came into my field of vision, backlit by halogen lights. "You are never leaving the house again," he said bluntly. "Not until I think you can date a boy without winding up in the hospital."

I groaned, and the sound seemed to vibrate in my skull. Everything was too bright: the white sheets, the white lights, the white walls, the white bandages around my hand-

The sight of the bandages jolted me back into reality. "Jacob," I gasped. "Where's Jacob?"

"He's fine, Bella- hey, hey!" Charlie grabbed me by the upper arms as I tried to get out of the hospital bed, the room tilting as I moved. "Lay down," he commanded as he pushed me back onto the thin, stiff mattress.

There was no point in resisting; the sudden motions I'd undertaken had left me as dizzy as if I'd been spinning in a circle with my arms flung out. Something felt disjointed in my body. "What's wrong with me?" I asked as I settled back gingerly.

"You have a concussion." Charlie pulled the blankets back over my legs, smoothing out the creases. We were in a quiet single room with no equipment and only a single IV in my arm; at least it wasn't intensive care. "And they've given you a lot of morphine."

That explained the spinning. "For what?"

Charlie swallowed. "For your hand." I looked down. My right hand had a new cast running up to my elbow. My left hand was completely covered in loose white gauze. I tried to move my fingers, but nothing happened. I didn't feel anything. "They're going keep you 'til this afternoon, Bells. The doctors still aren't sure if you'll need skin grafts. It's... pretty bad, kiddo."

Of course. My hand had been on fire. Through the disconnect in my brain, I put together the choppy memories: the flames flying through the sky, Jacob's transformation, Victoria's game, the cold water against my face, the car crash, Paul vomiting in the bushes, Emily holding a bloody towel against Sam's side...

I was desperate to know where everyone was and if they were okay, but I couldn't ask Charlie. "What happened?" I said carefully. There would be a cover story, certainly, but I didn't know what it was. "I... don't remember much."

Charlie's expression darkened abruptly. "You fell into a bonfire," he growled. "At Emily Young's house. And then Jacob Black crashed your truck trying to take you to the emergency room. He broke your cast and gave you a concussion."

"But where's Jake?" I asked anxiously. "Is he okay?" All I could remember was the warm brush of fur against my face and screaming-

"He's just fine," Charlie snapped. "_You're_ the only one who got hurt. He went home after he dropped you off. Some kid named Paul got the two of you off the side of the road and brought you the rest of the way." His face began to turn red. "Did anyone call an ambulance? No. Did anyone call the fire department? No. Did anyone call _me?_ No! If I hadn't already been here I wouldn't even have known!"

"Dad-"

"The doctors tell me Harry's died, then some intern comes over and says Hey, Chief, your daughter's just come into the ER! You fell into a _bonfire_ and destroyed your hand, and those kids decided to _drive_ you to the hospital! And then _got in a car crash!_ I'm surprised they didn't dump you in the driveway and run off!"

"Dad-"

"I swear to God, Isabella, you are _never_ to step foot on the reservation again. I am going to find out what those hooligans are up to, and I'm going to put a stop to it. And I don't care if I have to wrap you in bubble wrap and lock you in your room, you are _not allowed_ to keep getting injured, do you understand? I _forbid it!_"

Charlie was crying.

"Dad," I said, answering tears filling my eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

He humphed, then ruffled my hair with the flat of his hand. "Well, like I said, you got the clumsiness from me," he conceded gruffly. "So I guess it's not your fault you fell into a fire." He reached up to scratch his nose, pretending like he wasn't wiping his cheeks. "But I mean it, Bella. You're going to stay away from those kids, are we clear? _All_ of them. I don't want to see any of Sam Uley's gang within five hundred feet of you. That _includes_ Jacob Black."

This was definitely not the time to have that argument. Instead I focused on what he'd just said. "Harry died?" I whispered, feeling my heart sink.

Charlie paused for a long moment. Then his shoulders slumped. "Yes. Late last night."

I released a long breath. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah," he said heavily. "It's hard. He was too damn young."

_Too young._ Harry had been my father's age. Sudden fright seared through my veins, and I vowed to throw out every pork product in the house the minute I got home.

"I don't know what Sue and the kids are going to do," he continued. "And Harry was an important member of the community. It's going to be rough all around."

A movement out of the corner of my eye made me look up. I glanced over my father's shoulder and saw a familiar face peeping around the edge of the door frame, trying to catch my attention.

_Hi,_ Embry mouthed, grinning.

My eyes widened.

After glancing at Charlie's back, Embry edged slightly further into doorway and made a series of complicated hand gestures.

"Anyway," Charlie said, obviously trying to shake off his melancholy, "I'm just happy you're going to be okay. At least you didn't break your leg this time."

"At least there's that," I said distantly, still looking over his shoulder. Embry pantomimed eating, then pointed at Charlie. _Get rid of him,_ he mouthed emphatically.

I nodded slightly. "Hey, Dad? Will they let me eat? I'm starving." That was a lie - the pain medication was actually making me nauseous, and the thought of food made me feel ill. I hoped my pale skin wasn't turning green.

If it did, Charlie didn't notice. "Sure, Bells. Do you want me to call the nurse?"

Embry shook his head, eyes wide.

"No!" I said quickly. "No." At Charlie's strange look, I added, "I hate hospital food. I ate so much of it in Phoenix last year... maybe you could grab me some McDonalds from across the street, or something?"

Embry nodded.

"You sure?" Charlie said.

"Yeah. I think a chocolate milkshake would really hit the spot."

_And french fries_, Embry mouthed.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "And french fries."

"Okay." Charlie patted my cast. "I'll be back in a little while with food, and then, well..." he rubbed the back of his neck, "you'll probably need to call your mother."

"Yeah, I guess," I said reluctantly. She would be in hysterics, no doubt. "How bad is she freaking out?"

"Well, it's Renee."

"Right."

Charlie ruffled my hair again, then left the room, digging his wallet out of his pocket as he went. I had the sneaking suspicion that even though I'd only asked for a chocolate shake and fries, he was going to come back with one of everything on the fast food menu. The shiver of fear came back - this was the very last heart-damaging meal I would let Charlie eat. Ever.

But I'd have to deal with that later. "Psst!" I hissed in the direction of the open door. "Embry!"

In a fast, graceful motion, Embry slid into the room and shut the door behind him. I hadn't even heard his footfalls on the linoleum. He turned to face me with a wide smile. "Took you long enough to wake up, Buffy."

This time I _did_ roll my eyes, which made me instantly dizzy. "Don't call me that," I said, leaning back against the bed.

"Why not? You're our very own little slayer girl," he said proudly. "Are you going to start wearing cheerleader outfits?"

"No!" Relief flooded through me - if Embry was joking around, things couldn't be too bad. "So what happened? Where is everyone?" I swallowed. "Is Jacob here?"

"Naw, he's at Emily's." Embry shook his head at my crestfallen expression. "Oh, come _on_, don't be paranoid. Paul practically had to dislocate Jake's arm to drag him out of here."

A warming hope tickled around the edges of my heart. "So... he wanted to stay?"

Embry snorted. "Paul said he thought Jake was going to phase right in the emergency room. Yeah. He wanted to stay. Sam's got him at Emily's 'til he calms down. I guess the Alpha can't directly order someone away from their imprint, but Sam's getting around it by giving Jake _other_ orders to keep him busy. Emily's kitchen is gonna be spotless."

"Sam!" I tried to sit up again, but I failed; the action made me too woozy. "How is he? Is he okay?"

"Okay-_ish_." Embry winced, and I knew he'd seen Sam's injury too. "Healing's not too tough, but we can't regenerate. That bloodsucker used her hand like a damn melon-baller when she hit him. It'll take him awhile to fix up the missing bits."

"But he'll be live?" I pressed. I thought of how he'd called for Emily, and the sound of her fists beating against the door. The idea of them being parted made my chest hurt.

"Oh, yeah. He'll be fine after awhile, but the scar's gonna be nasty. He seems pretty happy about that part, though." Embry shrugged, clearly mystified. "Something about 'matching'. You imprint people are weird."

_That_ was certainly true. "What about Leah and Seth? And Victoria, is she dead? What _happened_ out there?"

"An _epic_ clusterfuck, that's what." Embry snickered at my shocked expression and settled into the uncomfortable-looking chair. "Trust me, Bella, there's no other word for it. We_ finally _caught up to the bloodsucker, and Sam was closing his teeth when all of the sudden all we could hear was screaming. Sam would've been able to handle it, but then the leech ripped him open and ran like hell. Jacob and Jared and I took off after her, and Paul stayed behind. And the whole time there were these voices in our heads _freaking out..._"

"The Clearwaters," I murmured.

"It was awful." He shuddered. "I mean, I heard it happen with Jacob, but Jake was at least a _little_ prepared. His dad had been dropping hints and stuff. But this was _two_ of them, and Leah and Seth had _no_ idea what was coming, plus they'd just seen Harry collapse... Man. I've never heard anything so loud in my _life_."

"Why did no one realize they were about to phase? You know about Quil, and Jake-"

"Seth's just a kid," Embry explained. "I mean, yeah, the bloodline is there, it was possible. But not for a couple years. And girls aren't supposed to phase. There was no reason to think it would happen to Leah." His face grew somber. "We're pretty sure that's what caused Harry's heart attack. He didn't see it coming, either."

"Oh, _no_." Poor Seth and Leah - not only were they werewolves, not only was their father dead, but _being_ werewolves had _caused_ their father's death. I couldn't even imagine. I didn't _want_ to imagine.

Not just the pork products. I was throwing away all the cheese, too.

"Yeah. They're having a hard time of it. They still haven't figured out how to phase back, so they can't even go home to their mom yet."

"Is someone with them?" I asked.

Embry nodded. "Paul's got Leah - she keeps attacking him 'cause she doesn't seem to know what else to do. Seth's hiding in a cave crying and Jared's trying to talk him out. Once Sam can phase it'll be better."

I thought of Leah and Sam's history and doubted that.

"So, yeah. The leech was _still_ fast, even with a chunk missing out of her, but we were able to keep on her tail. Then we heard Paul yelling at us to go find Leah and Seth. Jared and I listened, but, well, Jake... I dunno. I couldn't hear what he was thinking exactly, but it was mostly about being pissed at the bloodsucker for hunting you."

I swallowed.

"Anyhow, Jared and I went off to get the newbies." Embry sighed in a very put-upon fashion. "Jared took the easy job, Seth hadn't gone far. _I_ had to chase Leah almost to Oregon and then herd her back. She can put up one hell of a fight, let me tell you.

"Then in the middle of _that_, Jacob disappeared."

Even though I knew it was going to turn out okay, I felt my stomach drop. "Victoria stopped my truck. I don't know what happened exactly, but I guess Jacob caught up with her after she grabbed me. I know she was keeping him at a distance by threatening to kill me if he phased."

"What a bitch," Embry grumbled. "She's been such a pain in the ass."

"No kidding."

"Jared and I were pretty freaked," he continued, "but there wasn't anything we could do about it. So we're still after Seth and Leah, when _Paul_ comes back on the line and says _you've_ vanished, that Sam's dying on Emily's couch and Harry Clearwater's had a damn heart attack, and that Billy's on his way to help with Sam but _he's_ going to look for _you._" As I shook my head, Embry added, "See? Told you 'clusterfuck' was the only word."

I couldn't argue with that at all. "At least Billy made it over."

"Yeah. I guess he got your message and called." Embry rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted, but his leg was jiggling restlessly. When I glanced down at it he shrugged. "I've had about six liters of Mountain Dew. Anyway, Paul finds your truck and starts to flip out-"

"My truck," I interrupted, almost too afraid to ask. "Is it..."

Embry shook his head somberly - then his face turned panicked when I let out a sob. "Oh, jeez, don't cry, Bella. It's not in great shape, but Jake still might be able to fix it."

"You think so?" I said, holding back a sniffle. I _loved_ my truck.

"Yeah! I mean, Jake's been talking for awhile about how he's been wanting to practice his body work, so this is a great chance." Embry blinked, then bit his lip and looked down. He remained silent even as his shoulders started to vibrate slightly.

I sighed. "Say it, Embry, before you explode."

"And he'll _love_ to practice his body work with _you_." The words came out in a rush. Then he grinned. "Thanks."

"It would've been a shame for you to die of suppressed innuendo after all this," I said dryly.

"True. So, not long after Paul finds the truck we hear Jacob again, and was _that_ ever a nightmare. Dude's head was as messed up as Leah's and Seth's. Paul was close, and when he got there you were passed out by the water and Jake was tearing up bits of flaming leech." He shook his head. "You know you're supposed to rip the vampire up _then_ burn it, not the other way around, right?"

"I'll remember that for next time."

"Good. Anyway, according to Paul he tried to get Jacob's attention but Jake was _way_ gone, so he figured he better go ahead and take you to the hospital, since the bloodsucker was definitely dead and Jake was just ripping her into confetti at that point. 'Cept he'd only gotten about a half-mile away when Jake realized you'd disappeared, and he takes off after Paul like a bat out of hell. Paul gets you here and makes up some story about a bonfire, then Jacob bursts into the ER a minute later all naked and burned up and trying to get at you-"

"How are his burns?" I asked anxiously.

"They're fine, they healed up easy... right in front of the doctors, no less. So Paul has to wrangle Jake out of the place before someone tries to sedate him, then manages to drag him back to Emily's - how, I have no idea, the man's a beast - and thank God Sam was conscious by then so he could give orders, that's all I'm sayin'. Sam was doing better so Billy went to Sue's, then I guess Paul fell asleep for awhile, the lucky bastard.

"I got back with Leah around three in the morning and I was _totally_ ready to crash, but Jake begged me to come here and keep an eye on you, since Sam won't let him out of the house for fear he'll lose it again." Embry shook his head. "So Paul woke up and took over with Leah, Jared stuck with Seth, Sam's babysitting Jacob, Emily's babysitting Sam, you're here healing up, and I've been sneaking around drinking soda and waiting for your dad to leave." He threw up his hands. "And that's the whole pack accounted for. Everyone's present, everyone's alive, everyone's exhausted - except for Kim, who apparently watched some TV and went to bed early."

I was struck by my inclusion on the list. "I... I count as part of the pack?"

Embry gave me a disbelieving look. "Uh, _yeah_. Not only are you Jacob's imprint, you just _wasted a vampire_. That pretty much fulfills your membership requirements."

I felt a strange swelling of pride, even as I corrected him. "_Jacob_ killed Victoria. I just... distracted her."

"Yeah, burning alive _is_ a bit of a distraction," Embry said sardonically. "You set her _insides_ on fire, Bella. I'm pretty sure that would have done the trick no matter what. Jake just made sure of it." Then he grinned at me. "You did good."

"I didn't," I insisted. "I was confused, and scared, and it was the only think I could think of-"

He rolled his eyes. "But you _did_ think of it, and you pulled it off. So quit acting like you can't do anything, Buffy." His tone was teasing, but his expression was serious.

He meant it. They really thought _I'd_ done it, that _I'd_ killed Victoria.

I thought about the bright light as I'd clicked on the lighter.

Maybe... I had.

I felt a little smile creep onto my face.

"How's your hand?" Embry asked, nodding at the bandages. "You know, the other one."

I glanced down at it. "Don't know. I'm pretty woozy from the meds and can't feel much. Charlie says it's bad." I raised my casted right arm and pinched my thumb and forefinger together - the only fingers I had that weren't wrapped in plaster or gauze. "I'm not going to be doing much writing for awhile."

"Guess not. Jeez. Emily's gonna be fussing like you wouldn't believe. She'll probably spoon feed you."

I sighed deeply. "I can't go to Emily's, or anywhere near the reservation... and I can't see any of you. Charlie's on the warpath."

Embry's eyebrows shot up. "Oh crap, you didn't tell him what happened, did you?"

"Of course not," I assured him. "But he doesn't like the cover story either. I'm banned from any contact with 'Sam Uley's gang'-" I made the air quotes with my right index finger "-for the foreseeable future."

"I'd like to see him keep Jacob away," Embry said, smirking.

My insides warmed a little more at that. "Well, tell Jake he better come through my window unless he wants to get shot. Charlie's pretty wound up right now. He'll calm down in a few days, though." Or so I hoped. Charlie seemed to be really upset, but it had also been a terrible night; once he got some rest and watched a few ballgames, he'd probably relax. At least about Jacob. I couldn't imagine Charlie holding a grudge against Jacob for any significant length of time.

Embry hummed thoughtfully. "Well, that sucks. But you won't be missing much, at least. Between Leah and Seth - and Quil's still gonna phase any minute now - we'll all be pretty busy. It's a pain in the ass breaking _one_ person in, but three at once..." He gave a low whistle. "It'll be rough, I won't lie. Especially until Sam's healed."

"I imagine." The sooner Sam recovered, the better.

Embry stood up, stretching his back with a series of sickening cracks. "Anyhow, I'd better call Jake and let him know you're awake and in one piece, or he'll kick my ass. Can I borrow your cell?"

I shook my head. "It's washed out to sea by now."

"Oh. Damn. Well, there's a pay phone in the hall, at least."

He turned to go, but before he could leave, I called out, "Uh, Embry? Could you... you know... tell Jake I get out of the hospital this afternoon?" When he raised his eyebrows, I blushed in spite of myself. "If he'd like to come see me tonight or anything. I mean, he doesn't _have _to, tell him he doesn't have to, but if he _wants_ to, then, well... I'll be there."

Embry's eyebrows were almost in his hair. "Wow," he said finally. "You two are kind of hopeless." I tried not to die of embarrassment as Embry opened the door...

...and then slammed it instantly shut. "_Shit!_"

I sat up in alarm, trying to ignore how the room seemed to wobble as I did. "What? What's wrong?"

Embry looked like he'd been punched in the gut. One of his hands still rested on the door, which had a broken hinge dangling uselessly. "Vampire," he managed to say, his whole body shaking. "And it's close."

My blood turned cold.

Embry looked wildly around the room, then ran to the window and threw back the curtains. The dim light of a cloudy morning filtered through the glass. "Damn it," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Three stories is _way_ too high for you."

I was already reaching for my IV, trying to pull off the tape that held the needle in my arm. My two fingers couldn't get a good enough grip around the edges. "What do we do?" Who could it be? James, Laurent, and Victoria were all dead. Did she have more friends I didn't know about? Was this _ever_ going to end?

"I don't know. I can't phase in here. Maybe," he said, frantic as he turned to look me over, "_maybe_ if I held onto you we could jump without hurting you too bad-"

"But what about my dad?" I said desperately, fear clawing at insides. "He's going to be back any minute!"

He cursed again. "We'll have to-"

The door burst open with a bang, and like something out of a nearly-forgotten dream, a figure with huge golden eyes and impeccable clothing ran into the room. A tiny, graceful figure I'd been sure I would never see again. "Bella!"

My heart stopped. "Alice?" I squeaked, disbelieving.

"Oh, Bella!" she cried out again with her tinkling voice, just before she threw her stone-cold arms around my shoulders and pulled me into her embrace. My eyes widened in shock as my face bumped against her concrete shoulder. "Bella, I can't believe it, you're alive, I thought you were dead!" she gushed, her perfect, bell-like tones ringing in my ears. I stiffened, shocked beyond all imagining, trying to adjust, to understand what was happening.

Then the scent of her skin wafted into my nose - a scent that couldn't compare to any perfume in the world - and I felt myself begin to relax. It was _Alice_, returned from oblivion. Alice still existed. I wasn't crazy after all; I hadn't imagined that part of my life. Alice was back and everything would be okay now...

... but a growl from the other side of the room interrupted my reviere. I lifted my eyes to see Embry vibrating uncontrollably, his breath coming in sharp, quick pants.

The size of the room didn't matter. That dozens of people were within a hundred feet didn't matter. There was a vampire in the room, and like it or not, Embry was about to phase.

"Alice," I gasped. "Alice, get off of me. Quick."

Alice pulled back, her unnaturally beautiful face surprised. "What? Why?"

"Just do it!" I brought my casted hand up to push at her shoulder, which of course did nothing. My senses rebelled - why was I shoving her away? Hadn't I desired this moment for so long - or something _like_ this moment, at least? I didn't want her to go! Alice wasn't _him_, but she was a Cullen, and my best friend, and my _sister_... except Embry was going to explode. So I pushed.

After a moment, Alice realized that I meant it, and released me from her embrace. "Okay, okay." I felt a horrifying pang of loss when she backed up. Her eyes flicked to Embry as she seemed to realize for the first time that we weren't alone - and her nose wrinkled in disgust.

My head cleared a bit as she distanced herself from me... and I abruptly froze as a realization hit me like a slap to the face.

Alice's smell was the same as Victoria's.

Dark, sick horror started to uncurl in my stomach.

I couldn't deal with that now, though. I would worry about what _that_ might mean _later_, after I no longer had to worry about a werewolf-vampire battle in my hospital room. "Embry," I said in what I hoped was an Emily-like tone, "this is Alice Cullen."

Embry's shuddering had lessened as Alice moved to stand against the opposite wall, but it hadn't stopped. For the first time, I was _glad_ Jacob wasn't here. I didn't think he would have taken well to the sight of yet another vampire embracing me. "A Cullen," he repeated, seeming to have trouble forming words. "Wait, t_hose_ Cullens?"

"Yes," I said, relieved that he knew who I was talking about. "They're, you know... the good ones."

Embry let out a barking laugh. "A _good_ bloodsucker. Right."

Alice sniffed delicately, then narrowed her large, butterscotch-colored eyes to slits. "What _are_ you?" she demanded of Embry.

I was getting very nervous about where this conversation was going. "Alice," I interrupted quickly, "what... what are you _doing _here?"

Alice turned to look at me again, and her beautiful face smoothed into an expression of relief. "I _saw _you," she said in lovely ringing tones. "I saw you in a car crash. I saw _Victoria_. I thought you were dead! How are you not dead?"

Embry's shaking worsened again. "You were _there_? What, you're in league with that red-haired leech, too?"

"No, no, she can see the future," I explained. "She didn't have to be there to know what happened."

Embry looked at me incredulously. "She sees the future. Oh, _fantastic._"

"It usually is," Alice snapped at him. "Except when it gets confused." Her eyes came back to mine, and I couldn't stop staring. I just soaked in the beauty that seemed so strange and out of place in these drab surroundings. "I wasn't keeping tabs on you, I swear, Bella. It's just that I'm already attuned to you... when I saw the car crash, I didn't think. I just got on a plane. I knew I would be too late, but I couldn't do _nothing_, and we had to _avenge _you, we couldn't let her get away with it..." Her breath caught as her face crumpled, and I knew that if she was capable of crying, she would be. "Oh, Bella, I'm so _sorry!_ I knew Victoria wanted Edward but I had no idea she was coming for _you_, I didn't see a thing, don't know _why_ but I didn't-"

"It's okay, it's okay," I said reassuringly, even as I became more confused. "I'm not dead, see? But Victoria is. You don't have to worry. There's nothing to avenge."

"And even if there was it wouldn't be _your_ problem, leech," Embry growled. "We can take care of our own, thanks."

Alice frowned deeply, then sniffed the air again. "You smell _awful_," she said to Embry, sounding disgusted. "You smell like a _dog_."

"You're no basket of roses either, princess."

I groaned and leaned further back on the bed. This was sapping my energy, and the pain medication was beginning to wear off; I could feel a terrible throbbing coming from my left hand.

"But if you're alive," Alice said to me, though she kept her suspicious gaze on Embry, "why didn't I see it? I should have seen it. I thought you were _dead_, and if I hadn't happened to see the cruiser out front as I passed... how did you escape from Victoria?"

"Our little Buffy here killed her," Embry said, raising his chin. "So you'd better get lost or she'll stake your ass, too."

Alice laughed, and the sound was like wind chimes in a light breeze. "Be serious." She turned back to me with an amused smile. "What really happened?"

I shrugged slightly, though that tiny bit of pride began to well up inside me again. "Well... that kind of _is_ what really happened."

Alice blinked in astonishment. "But... _how?_"

"It's a long story."

"But that doesn't make any sense at _all_," Alice insisted. "How could you have-"

"Hold up," Embry interrupted, raising a hand sarcastically. "I think it's my turn to ask a question. What's this whole '_we_ have to avenge her' crap? Who's 'we'?"

"'We'," Alice said crisply, "means my family."

My breath stopped in my throat.

"Are you _all_ coming back?" he asked, his face a bitter, hard mask. This was the wolf gathering information to take back to his pack.

"What business is it of yours?"

"Well, it's _my_ business... isn't it?" I said faintly. My head was starting to spin even though I wasn't moving. "_Are _you all coming back?"

Alice regarded me for a long moment, clearly deliberating on her next words. "Yes," she said finally. "All of us. Jasper's opening up the house right now. I let everyone know as soon as I had the vision. They will all have arrived in..." she trailed off, and her eyes went unfocused for a moment before declaring decisively, "...sixteen hours. We were coming to kill Victoria."

My vision started to tunnel. _Everyone_. "But they don't have to," I gasped. Part of me was elated... and other parts were terrified. I had no idea what to do with this information, none. It felt like the world was realigning underneath me. "She's already dead."

"They're already on their way; everyone will arrive," Alice said with certainty. "I'm positive. We'll figure out what to do after that."

Embry glared at her. "Keep to the treaty, then," he snarled. "If you step one sparkly little foot on our lands we'll rip you into pieces."

Alice frowned again... then her angel's face lit up with recognition. "Werewolves," she breathed. "You're the werewolves from Carlisle's treaty. I wasn't there then, but..." She turned back to me, shaking her head in exasperation. "You're friends with _werewolves?_ Leave it to you, Bella. Anyone else would be better off when the vampires left town - but _you_ have to start hanging out with the first monsters you find."

"There's nothing wrong with werewolves," I snapped, a familiar anger rising at her critical tone.

"Damn right there's not," Embry said just as furiously. "Watch who you call a monster, you sorry excuse for a mosquito."

"This has nothing to do with-" Alice stopped speaking before she finished her sentence, then cocked her head toward the door. "Someone's coming."

Embry perked up, taking a few sniffs. He grinned. "Ooh. French fries."

This was about to get very bad.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the door open. "Sorry, Bells, they were out of chocolate syrup so I..." Charlie's voice faded away. I kept my eyes tightly closed, but I could almost see his face turning purple. Sudden, irrational fear clenched in my chest - what if Charlie had a heart attack, like Harry? _This_ could certainly do it-

"Hi, Charlie," I heard Alice's melodic voice say. Then I heard a crinkling thud - Charlie must have dropped the bag of food.

I dared to open my eyes.

Charlie's face had indeed turned purple. "You," he growled, pointing at Embry. "You're one of Sam Uley's." Then he turned to Alice, looking stunned. "And what are _you_ doing here, Alice?" Before she could answer, his expression turned murderous again. "You know what? I don't care. Get out. No Cullens _or_ Uley gang members are welcome here."

Alice smiled winsomely. I remembered how she'd always been my father's favorite. "But Charlie-"

"But _nothing_," he said sharply, cutting her off. He stepped out of the doorway and pointed at the hall. "Both of you leave, or I'll arrest you for trespassing." Both Embry and Alice looked vaguely mutinous, but then Charlie brushed back the side of his jacket, showing his gun. I wasn't sure it was an empty threat. "Out. Now."

Embry glanced at me, then let out a small snort before stepping forward and holding open the door. "Ladies first," he said to Alice mockingly, and I realized he wasn't going to leave until he was sure the vampire was gone as well.

Alice glared at him before darting over and giving me a quick, heartfelt hug. Her skin didn't give against mine. "I'll call you later," she whispered in her sweet voice, then released me and strode out of the room before I got the chance to tell her my cell phone was gone.

"Later, Buffy." Embry flashed me a quick grin, then flinched under Charlie's glare and escaped as well.

The room suddenly felt a lot quieter.

Charlie turned to me with a dark look. "I leave for _twenty minutes_-"

"They just showed up, Dad," I said, strangely relieved that my friends were gone. Exhaustion was setting in rapidly. There was just so much to deal with, and I didn't have the reserves to handle it. "Sorry about that."

He humphed as he picked up the bags of food. Embry would have to do without his french fries. "I mean it, Bells. I don't want them anywhere near you." He frowned, and his eyes became wary. "And yes, that includes Alice. Is... I mean, are any of the _others_ coming back?"

I knew what he was asking. "I think so," I whispered. I didn't know what to think about that, or what to feel.

Cold ran through my body, and I started to shiver.

Charlie noticed, and pulled the blankets further up my body. "They were out of chocolate," he apologized, looking very sad all of the sudden. "All I could get was strawberry."

In spite of my earlier nausea, a strawberry milkshake sounded surprisingly good. "That'll be fine," I assured him. When he pulled the cup out of the bag, I reached for it automatically - then scowled at my cast. "I can't-"

Wordlessly, Charlie stuck a straw into the cup and held the milkshake up to my mouth. It tasted fantastic.

"Thanks, Dad," I said once I'd stopped for breath.

"You're welcome, Bells."

* * *

In my dream, the forest was silent; not a single breeze rustled the trees or stirred the dead leaves on the ground.

I stood in front of my dead oak and marveled. Green, slippery moss had climbed right off the ground and covered every inch of bark and branch. The death had nourished the new growth, and the moss thrived. I smiled as the sun rose behind my back and highlighted the dew that clung to the emerald fuzz, allowing it to sparkle in the light.

Except the light flickered strangely.

I turned towards the sun, but I didn't see the expected rosiness of dawn.

The horizon was glowing orange with the flames of an approaching forest fire.

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Surrender_

_**Sanity Update**: *claws... toward... finish... line...* The latest side effect of this fic has been a dramatic increase in both anxiety and paranoia. I am not kidding, I had a nightmare about being crushed under a collapsed bookshelf full of Twilight books. My doctor is SO happy with me right now, I can't even tell you. Also, made my Wednesday update by 9 whole minutes!_


	15. Surrender

_**Zero Wing Disclaimer**: _Fic has been lifted this from several parts of the moon directly, I do not own the moon and the saga of the mystery. I do not like Stephenie is because no claim.

* * *

_but i've seen your flag on the marble arch / our love is not a victory march  
k.d. lang, "Hallelujah"_

* * *

**14. Surrender**

* * *

After several more hours of observation, the doctors finally determined that I wouldn't need skin grafts. Luckily, my hand hadn't been in the 'bonfire' long enough to completely destroy it; it would heal on its own, but slowly and painfully. My right arm would likely be out of the cast before my left was fully functional again.

When the doctor unwrapped the gauze, I took one look and closed my eyes with a moan. The doctor explained the home treatment to Charlie instead, talking about antibiotics and scarring while I tried to erase the image of my red and white flesh from my mind. Victoria was dead, I reminded myself. Victoria was dead, everyone else was alive, and so it was all worth it.

But it seemed that running with vampires and werewolves really _did_ have its risks.

* * *

We got home from the hospital just as the sun was starting to set. I didn't expect Jacob until after dark, so I settled onto the couch while Charlie got out a pad of paper and started to make lists of what we would be needing for the next several weeks.

"What food can you eat on your own, Bells?" he asked, nodding to my exposed index finger and thumb.

I pinched experimentally. "Not much," I said. "Carrot sticks, maybe. Chicken nuggets. Tortilla chips." My diet would certainly be boring for awhile.

Charlie diligently scribbled. "And I'll pick up lots of straws. Will you eat soup through a straw?"

"If I have to." The idea was sort of repulsive, but it was infinitely better than being spoonfed like an infant.

"Okay. Do you need... uh... what about..." Charlie blushed deeply.

I grimaced. There would be no Alice to help me bathe this time - although now that she was back, I had no doubt she'd offer her services if I requested them. The thought stirred up a mess of convoluted emotions... but I was determined to manage this by myself. Or as by myself as I could. After setting a vampire ablaze, the little things didn't seem so impossible anymore. "Just get me a loofah on a stick, Dad," I said. "I'll figure it out." Dressing would be harder, but I'd figure that out, too.

"A... loofah?"

"Or a sponge," I added hastily at his confused and vaguely terrified expression. "Or one of those net ball thingees. Whatever, as long as it's on a stick."

He relaxed. "Oh, okay."

We finished out the list of supplies together, and then I started to add a list of groceries. "Broccoli. Asparagus. Bean sprouts. Whole grain bread."

"How are you supposed to eat bean sprouts?"

"_I'm_ not eating bean sprouts," I explained. "_You_ are."

He blinked. "Why?"

"Lettuce," I continued, ignoring him. "Ground turkey. Beets."

"Bella, I've never eaten beets and I'm certainly not starting _now_. I don't even know how to _cook_ beets."

"There are recipes in the cookbooks," I said. "Brown rice. Radishes. And I want you to go through the freezer and throw away all the pork chops and bacon. The fish can stay."

Charlie paused, then gave me a long, serious look. "Bells," he said gently, "Harry always had a weak heart."

I shook my head. "He was your age. Better safe than sorry."

"Listen to me, Bella." He set the pad of paper on the coffee table. "I knew Harry since we were kids, back before the reservation built its own school. He started taking medication when he was ten. I remember being jealous because _he_ never ran the mile in gym class." He had to pause to press his lips together - Harry's death was much too fresh and raw for him, and I regretted making him talk about it, however obliquely. "He didn't take good enough care of himself these last few years. That's why Sue was always yelling at him."

My eyes filled with tears. "Well, _I'm_ yelling at you now. Throw out the pork chops, okay?"

"Bella-" he took my thumb in his hand "-it's hard, but it was bound to happen to Harry sooner or later. I'm not going to have a heart attack."

Harry had been lost to Leah and Seth in the blink of an eye. Charlie was the very last thing in my life that was normal and not filled with confusion and danger, but now I saw that even _he_ could be taken from me by something as simple as a stroke, or a blood clot, or a car accident... The tears spilled over and ran down my cheeks.

Suddenly I was in a warm, comforting embrace. "It's okay, Bells," Charlie said soothingly as he rubbed my back. "Everything's okay."

"No it's not." The fact that Harry Clearwater was the only one who had died during the night was nothing short of a miracle. That _I_ hadn't died during the night had only been blind fortune. Nothing was safe. Nothing.

"Bella." I felt Charlie sigh. "Bella, I know I'm not much good at this dad thing-"

"You're a _great_ dad," I hiccuped.

"-but," he continued, "I know this isn't just about Harry. Something's been wrong for awhile now. I mean, things have been wrong for months and months, but you... you were getting better, and now there's something new. And it's got something to do with that Sam Uley gang." Charlie pulled away so he could look me in the eye. His brown irises were the same shade as mine. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on, Bells."

I swallowed hard as desperation to confess filled my heart and my mind. I wanted to tell him _everything _- all about vampires, and werewolves, and Edward and Jacob and how I'd killed someone mere hours ago. I wanted him to take it all off my shoulders and fix it.

But my loyalty to Jacob - to the whole pack - was too strong for that. And I wasn't a little kid who could just go running to her parents because she had a bad dream. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a burden anyone could take from me.

"Dad," I said shakily, "I really, really, _really_ wish I could... if that counts for anything."

Charlie searched my face - then his shoulders slumped. "It does," he said reluctantly. "But whether you tell me or not... I'm going to find out what they're doing down there. I would just rather hear it from you."

Guilt stabbed into me like blades, but it didn't change anything. The guilt was another thing I'd have to bear. It wasn't my secret to tell. "I'm sorry," I whispered, hoping that would help. I _was_ sorry - sorrier than I could possibly explain. "Can... can we watch some sports? I want to watch some sports."

He frowned at me for a moment before scratching the back of his neck. "Well... we _can_, kiddo, but... why don't we watch one of those movies of yours?" He pointed awkwardly at my paltry collection of DVDs lined up on the bookshelf. "I mean... you're sick, you should get to pick."

"And... you'll watch with me?" I asked, still hiccuping a little. I wasn't ready for him to leave yet.

"Sure, Bells." Charlie got up off the couch and picked through the shelf, looking uncertain as he read the titles. "Um... what about this one?" He held up _Sense and Sensibilit_y. "It says it's an Oscar winner, so..."

"That's great," I said. "I'm in the mood for that, actually."

An hour later, Charlie was blinking confusedly at the screen. "So... why did that guy-"

"Willoughby."

"Yeah. Why did he leave the girl again?"

I snorted, both frustrated and amused. Maybe this was how Charlie had felt when he tried to teach me about hockey penalties. "She doesn't know why yet, but it's because she didn't have enough money."

"But wasn't she with that other guy first?"

"No. I mean, Colonel Brandon _wanted_ to be with her, but she didn't really notice."

"But the older lady knew."

"Mrs. Jenkins knows everything about everyone."

"Oh." Charlie was silent for another few moments, then asked, "But _why _wasn't the girl with that other guy?"

"Well, there's a pretty big age difference. And she didn't really see that he loved her; she thought love was supposed to be... louder. Like with Willoughby."

"And that's the guy who left."

I sighed. "Right."

"...but what happened to that guy who liked the other girl?"

"The other girl? You mean Elinor, her sister?"

"Wait, they're _sisters_?"

I leaned my head back against the couch and rolled my eyes, unable to hold back my exasperation. "Yeah, Dad, they're sisters. The little girl is their sister, too. And the woman in black is their mother. Haven't you been paying attention?"

But Charlie didn't respond. After a moment, worried I had really offended him, I looked up. His eyes were fixed on my arched neck.

I touched my throat, confused - and then my blood turned cold as I realized what he was seeing. He was seeing four little bruises on one side and a single larger bruise on the other side.

Exactly as though I had struggled against a strong hand holding me forcefully in place.

Charlie's expression was indescribable.

"Dad," I whispered, "it's not-"

He interrupted me in a rough, controlled voice. "You are not seeing them again, Bella. Not ever." Then he got up from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. A few moments later I heard the sound of breaking glassware.

I watched the rest of the movie alone.

* * *

A nurse at the hospital had dressed me in a t-shirt and sweatpants that Charlie had brought from home; those weren't too difficult to get out of without assistance. Getting into my pajamas was harder. In the end, I had to pool the pants on the floor, carefully step into them, then pull them up with my pinched fingers. My tank top I hung on a wall hook and wriggled into it from underneath.

There was no way I'd be able to wear jeans for the next several weeks, I realized, and I cringed in anticipation of returning to school dressed in elastic shorts. There was also no way I'd be able to wear a bra, because Charlie and I would both die of embarrassment if he helped me with _that_. For the first time I counted myself lucky to not have been blessed with an overabundance of curves.

Luckily, my window's latch was very simple - only a hook and eye, easy to undo with my thumb and forefinger. Obviously the designers of the house had not expected a second story bedroom window to see as much traffic as mine did.

Then I laid back on my bed to wait.

Maybe Jacob wouldn't come.

If he did, I didn't know what he would say.

I didn't know what _I_ would say, either.

I supposed I would just have to make it up as I went.

* * *

I was drifting in that vague world between sleep and wakefulness when I heard a familiar, husky voice. "Bella?"

I blinked, then tried to sit up in bed. It was a bigger struggle than I expected, since I couldn't put my hands on the mattress to lift my body. My abdominal muscles would be a lot stronger by the time I was healed. "Jake?"

"Yeah." Jacob stepped away from the window into the dim light provided by a wall-socket nightlight; I hadn't replaced my broken table lamp yet. Life had been busy. "Were you sleeping?"

"Only a little," I said, looking him over before exhaling in relief. I couldn't see any burns or any visible signs of the battle he'd faced. "I had a long day."

Jacob bit his lip as he stared at me. The horrible, pained, struggling look was all over his face, and it made me want to cry. But I'd done enough crying for awhile. "Is it okay that I'm here?" he said hesitantly. "I can go if you want."

"No!" The word came out louder than I anticipated, and I looked at the door in alarm, not daring to breathe for a few moments. Thankfully, there was no sound from across the hall. "Sorry," I said in a whisper, "we've got to be quiet. Charlie can't know you're here. But _no_, I don't want you to go."

He nodded, his eyes roving over my face, my body, then coming to a stop on my left hand. "How bad is it?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

I thought seriously about lying, but Jacob knew me too well. "It's not great, but it could have been worse."

"Does it hurt?"

"Some." I held up my hand and looked at the white gauze that fit loosely, barely brushing the skin, keeping contaminates off the damaged flesh. "I've got plenty of pain meds, though. It's a good thing I can't drive," I joked, "because I'm not supposed to operate heavy machinery."

Jacob didn't crack a smile at my meager attempt to lighten the mood. "I'm sorry," he said. He sounded miserable.

I frowned. "It's not your fault."

He shook his head.

With a sigh, I leaned back against the headboard, sliding further down the mattress. I was still tired in spite of all the drugged sleep I'd gotten. "How's Sam doing?"

Jacob snorted. "He's having entirely too much fun." At my disapproving look, he added, "He's feeling better. He's not up and about or anything, but his side's starting to heal up pretty well. And he got a _huge_ kick out of ordering me around all day."

"Embry said you were cleaning."

"I don't think there's one drop of blood left in that house," he grumbled. "I wanted to go see you, but I wasn't... I wasn't in the best shape. Sam couldn't order me to stay away, so he kept coming up with things for me to do. And whenever I complained he'd just point out that I wasn't the _only_ one who knew how to get around the rules. I almost punched him in the ribs a couple of times."

"You didn't, right?"

"Naw. Emily would've killed me." Jacob swallowed. "Sorry I wasn't at the hospital, though."

"It's okay," I said. "It wouldn't have been so great for the entire medical establishment of Forks to see your burns magically vanish right in front of their eyes."

"Yeah, that would've been bad."

I waited for Jacob to come closer, but he stayed where he was, nervously shifting his weight, his eyes never leaving me. After a minute of silence, I said, "Are you just going to hover by the window all night?"

"Guess not." Jacob was trembling all over as he came forward, one small step at a time. Finally he came to a stop at the side of my bed, his knees brushing the edge of my mattress. "Can I hover here instead?" he asked throatily.

I nodded, my breath catching. "Yeah. That's fine."

He looked at my left arm for a long moment, then at my right. "Won't be holding your hand for while, I guess."

"Probably not," I said regretfully. Was that what he was waiting for? It would be familiar, certainly... though weeks away. "You could hold it through the cast, though. That would probably be safe." A nice, protective layer of plaster between his skin and mine. The thought made me depressed.

"Safe," he repeated, the word more mouthed than spoken.

I swallowed. "If... if that's what you want."

"It's never been what I wanted." Jacob's breath was coming faster; his chest moved rapidly in the dim glow of the nightlight. "But it's... it just... it shouldn't be like this. Not with you. I didn't want it to be like this with you. It should be different for us... something without monsters, or magic..."

I bit my lip and tried to think of something comforting to say. I couldn't. He was right. If the world was the sane place it was supposed to be, then it all would have been so easy. The boy with the sunny grin asking the girl from his childhood whether she wanted him to take her to her senior prom. Nothing epic; nothing that ended in blood or flames.

But the world _wasn't_ sane, and it certainly wasn't easy.

I knew what Jacob was doing. He was mourning what should have been. And I couldn't think of a single thing that would make it better, so I just stayed silent and waited.

"I thought she was going to kill you," he whispered finally. His eyes came up to meet mine.

"She didn't, though." I knew she hadn't, because I could my heart thudding violently against my ribcage.

Jacob tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. After a long moment, his gaze dropped to my neck. Then, with a shaking hand, he reached forward. Blazing heat trailed across my throat as he very, very carefully brushed the tips of his fingers under my jaw and applied the slightest pressure.

He was feeling for my pulse.

That, just the barest touch along my skin, was almost too much for me. I'd been craving it for so long and now it brought tears to my eyes - the contact, and why he had finally decided to do it. "I'm alive, Jake," I told him as his thumb grazed my chin. "Really."

Jacob broke.

In an instant he was scrambling into bed next to me. His legs tangled with mine and his face pressed against where my throat curved into my collarbone; I wrapped my right arm around his neck clumsily, using the crook of my elbow to hold him in place, as close to me as I could manage while actually remaining two separate people. His rapid, shaky exhales burned as he smelled my skin.

Then his hands dropped to my waist and frantically pushed my tank top up to just below my breasts. I stiffened in surprise at his boldness, and he started babbling, "It's not that, it's not that, it's okay, I promise I won't, don't worry..." He kept up a steady stream of desperate reassurances into my neck as his large, rough fingers quickly spanned across my stomach, feeling the outline of each rib, dipping his thumb into my navel, touching every inch of my belly before one hand dove between my body and the sheets and stroked the small of my back. The other hand came up to my face, his sweaty palm pressing against my cheek before brushing across my lashes, my eyebrows, my forehead, then tangling loosely into my hair. I couldn't see or hear or feel anything that wasn't Jacob.

I didn't know what I had expected. Fireworks, maybe. Some flashing moment of awareness, where the earth shifted on its axis and the whole world became a new place. Instead, I felt like I'd just returned home after a long trip, a trip that maybe I'd enjoyed but was still glad to see end; I felt like I'd tossed my keys on the coffee table, dropped onto the couch, and put my feet up with a sigh of relief. I felt comforted... and safe... and relaxed... and _whole_.

Jacob's touch didn't feel any different than it had before.

Beginning from somewhere deep inside my bones, I felt the most delicious, wonderful warmth spread through my body.

It took several minutes before Jacob was calm enough to slow down. Finally his hands stopped roaming and came to rest on my upper arms, his thumbs rubbing small circles into my skin. The breath from his long, shuddering sigh whispered across my ear.

"Hi, Jake," I whispered.

I felt his laugh rather than heard it. "Hi, Bells," he replied thickly.

"Are you all right?"

He paused for a long moment, then nodded against my shoulder. "Think so." He rubbed his cheek along my throat. "You?"

"Well, I'm kind of annoyed that I can't use my hands," I grumbled. "_You're_ getting to do all the touching."

_That_ time I heard his laugh, deep and soft. He reached over his shoulder, pulled my right arm from around his neck, and lifted his head to brush his nose gently across my thumb. "That help?"

I smiled. "Yeah."

Jacob returned my smile, then a confused expression crossed his face. He held my fingers to his cheek, then stroked a hand along my side again. "You feel warm."

"I know," I said, delighted.

"No, I mean, you feel warm to _me_." A line appeared between his eyebrows as he reached up to touch light fingertips over my forehead. "_Nothing_ feels warm to me anymore..." Then he froze. A look of horror came over his face.

My eyes widened as I realized why his mood had suddenly shifted. "It's just temperature," I said quickly. "That's all. I mean, we knew there were effects from the imprint, it's not a big deal-"

"It _is_ a big deal." Jacob was trying to put that struggling mask back in place, to pull himself away from my body - but his hands didn't obey. They kept stroking restlessly against the soft skin of my abdomen and my arm. He shook all over, but he didn't get out of bed.

After a long moment he pressed his face back into my neck, hiding what I was pretty sure were tears. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't do it anymore. I don't even _want_ to. I give up."

I felt a lump rise in my throat at his shattered admission. "But I don't want you to _give up_," I said, cursing Victoria's venom and Sam's face and my own temper and everything else that had led to this situation where Jacob needed me to touch him and I couldn't. "You don't have to give up, Jake."

"Huh?" I felt him form the word against my collarbone.

"I just... Jacob, I _meant_ it when I said we'd figure out something that works, okay? Can't you... I mean... wouldn't it work better if we were _both_ trying to figure it out? Maybe we can't get _rid_ of the imprint, but we could get _around_ it, right? The way you and Sam both got around the rules? We could practice or something... I'll tell you to get me a glass of water from the kitchen and you'll tell me to get it myself. We'll just... I don't know, Jake, but don't give up. You can make it work, I _know_ you can. And I'll help."

"You'll help?" he murmured.

"Yeah. Apparently I'm not totally useless." I smiled to myself. "I'll even get a new lighter from Embry. He thinks I'm Buffy, you know."

Jacob chuckled quietly. "I know. And he's right. You were _awesome_, honey."

I blushed at his words. "Well, actually... I was having an anxiety attack," I confessed. It still felt odd, to be complimented in this way. I needed to qualify it. I hadn't been brave, or particularly competent. I'd been afraid and I'd been lucky.

"I was too." His body trembled against mine. "Never been so scared in my life, actually."

I pressed my lips together. "Well," I whispered, "we lived, so... I guess we make a pretty good team, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Jacob's heartbeat thumped steadily against my chest. I heard him take a few shuddering breaths, and then without looking up he rasped, "Bella... would you be here with me right now if not for the imprint?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

I paused for a long moment as I tried to formulate my answer. Once again, the temptation to simply lie was powerful... but Jacob would know. He wouldn't even have to hear it; he'd absorb the lie right through his skin. But it wasn't just that; I _wanted _to tell the truth, and the truth was so much more than a simple _yes_ or _no_.

Jacob sighed as he waited and wrapped an arm securely around my waist, clearly trying to enjoy the last few moments of ignorance.

"I have no idea if I'd be here, Jake," I said finally. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes as I offered him the only truth I had. "But it was already way too late not to love you."

He stilled. "Really?" His tone was half-disbelieving, half-hopeful.

I nodded. "Really."

There wasn't a lot I was sure of anymore. The parts of my life that had seemed so immovable only seven months ago weren't as solid as I'd believed them to be; the world was still a dangerous and threatening place, but not in the ways I'd thought. There was no certainty that the people I loved wouldn't vanish, or die, or be taken from me; there was no certainty of _anything_, period, and that was terrifying in ways I had never even imagined.

But I was sure I loved Jacob Black. _How_ was less certain. In a childish way or as an adult; as a friend, or as _more_... I didn't know, but more importantly, I wasn't sure I _cared_. The lines blurred between us; what we were would never fit into a clean category, no matter how I tried. I knew I wanted him to be happy, I knew he made _me_ happy, I knew I liked it when he touched me. That was all I needed to know, I decided. We were Jacob and Bella and that was that.

And I was his imprint.

Feeling momentarily brave, I turned my face to the side and brushed my mouth across his temple. "_My_ Jacob," I whispered possessively, and tightened my arm around him.

His breath caught, and then he pressed his lips against my neck, just below my ear. The hand still resting at my waist began to stroke my side again, except it was different somehow. Instead of warmth, he traced fire across my skin with his fingertips, leaving behind a growing heat that pooled in my body. Another kiss to my throat, slightly lower than the first, and shivers ran up my spine.

I decided I liked _this_ kind of touching, too.

A moment later, though, Jacob's hand stilled. I fought back a displeased whine when I heard him swallow nervously. "Bella... Embry said the little bloodsucker came to see you."

My heart sank. "Her name's Alice."

"Whatever," he muttered. "Is it true? Are they _all_ coming back?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to think about this. The hole in my chest - closed under Jacob's hand, but still covered in scar tissue - gave a low throb of pain. "I think so." When Jacob tensed, I added quickly, "But I don't think they'll be here long. Alice said they came to kill Victoria, so there's no reason for them to stay."

A growl rumbled through his chest. "They _better_ not."

The emotion that undercut his threatening words was too obvious to ignore. I loosened my hold around his neck. "Jake? Jacob, come on, look at me."

Jacob took a deep breath, then raised himself onto his elbows to meet my eyes... and the fear in them hit me like a physical blow. Emily had been right - he was afraid. He was afraid of _me_. I could destroy him with a single word, and he had no way to protect himself from it. He had no defenses against his imprint.

He loved me, but he still wasn't sure he trusted me.

I would prove myself trust-worthy.

"It'll be fine, Jake," I said, putting everything I had into my words. "I'm your soul mate, remember?"

A long moment passed as Jacob searched my eyes. Then in a low, husky voice, he said, "Yeah. Yeah, you definitely are."

His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he moved his hand to brush my face, pressing his burning palm against my cheek. His expression took on a nervous sort of resolve as he lowered his lips toward mine.

I turned my head, and his kiss landed on my cheek.

I couldn't let him do this. He was right - it shouldn't be like this between us. I couldn't let him kiss me just because he was terrified I would return to the Cullens. He deserved so much more than that.

The look on Jacob's face quickly turned to one of rejected embarrassment. "Sorry, Bells," he mumbled, pulling away a little. "I thought-"

"My prom's coming up," I said.

He blinked. "Huh?"

"In a couple weeks," I explained. "I think the theme is 'Springtime in Barcelona' or something ridiculous like that."

"I... okay." Jacob's brow was furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

I tried not to sigh. It had been a long few days, after all. "The thing is," I said distinctly, "no one's asked me. I don't have a date."

It took a long moment, but then Jacob's expression cleared. "Well... I could take you, if you wanted," he offered, trying to keep a straight face.

"_Hell_ no," I said quickly. "Prom? Are you kidding? It'll be in the gym and the gym smells like old socks. Huge crowds... _dancing_... and I _hate_ dressing up. Besides, trying to get around with _these_-" I held up my hands "-would be a nightmare. No. I refuse to go."

Jacob had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. "You're a drama queen," he teased. "But if you _really_ don't want to go... you could always come over to my place and hang out instead. My sisters left behind all those crappy teen movies of theirs. We could watch them and throw popcorn at the screen whenever someone says something stupid."

"But then we wouldn't get to _eat_ any popcorn," I pointed out.

"I'll make extra."

I pretended to think it over. "I guess that could be fun," I said, trying to sound reluctant. "Better than _real_ prom, anyway."

Jacob grinned - one of his old sunny grins. "It's a date, then," he said softly. He leaned down to rest his forehead against mine, and I closed my eyes, feeling myself glowing in his warmth.

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Treaty (Redux)_

_**Sanity Update**: Only the epilogue left, my dears - and the longest, most self-indulgent author's note the world has ever seen. I'm sucking down ginger ale like it's going out of style, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel and it is a beautiful, beautiful things to behold. (Also, did anyone think I'd get through the whole story without using some version of this song? I mean, honestly.) (And yes, the Disclaimer is my inner geek coming out to play. All your wolfpack are belong to us.)_


	16. Treaty Redux

_**The Final Countdown Disclaimer**: There are parts of this fic that are lifted directly from the Twilight Saga. Those parts aren't mine. They've never been mine. They've always been Stephenie Meyer's, who abused them horribly. Literary character assassination should be a federal crime._

* * *

_and i've played all the characters / the fool, the friend, the wife / and no matter what the ending is / the story of my life is the book of love  
Dar Williams, "Book of Love"_

* * *

**Epilogue - Treaty (Redux)**

* * *

Charlie had meant it.

I had honestly expected the La Push ban to only last a day or two, but I'd been gravely mistaken. Charlie was adamant that I would have no further communication with anyone associated with Sam Uley, and he showed no sign of relenting. After he attended Harry Clearwater's funeral, Charlie cut off contact as well; the few times Billy tried to call, Charlie slammed the phone back down without a word. It seemed that as far as he was concerned, Billy was a part of the mysterious conspiracy along with everyone else.

At the same time, my father was turning overprotectiveness into an art form. When he was at work he called the house line once an hour "just to check in" - in other words, to make sure no one from La Push had come to take me away. He got new locks for the doors. If he so much as heard Jacob's name in passing, a vein bulged in his forehead. None of this was openly discussed; neither of us wanted to fight, so I pretended like I _wasn't_ thinking about the reservation, and Charlie pretended like he didn't know that I _was_.

It was a very quiet standoff, all things considered, but it was a standoff nonetheless.

Of course, Jacob came to see me anyway - usually at night, when he had the most free time. The length varied. Sometimes he didn't turn up until three in the morning and stayed until we heard Charlie's alarm clock go off; sometimes he arrived at ten-thirty but had to leave again after twenty minutes. Once he simply curled up on the bed like a puppy and fell asleep for an hour with his head on my stomach, which had brought me a surprising amount of satisfaction.

The cold didn't come back, even when he wasn't there. My body knew, somehow, that Jacob would be returning. After all, he had an open invitation.

Late one night Jacob didn't rap on the glass before climbing in the window; he was climbing into bed and pulling me into his arms almost before I'd even woken up. "Jake?" I mumbled. "S'wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, his face nuzzled into my hair. His hands stroked my sides nearly as frantically as they had the first night. "Just wanted to see you."

"Doesn't feel like nothing," I said, yawning. A quick glance at my clock confirmed that the sun would be rising before long. "What happened?"

His body gave a tiny shudder. "Quil phased."

"Oh, no." Jacob had been really hopeful that with Victoria's death, Quil might be spared. Apparently the transformation had been too close to completion. "Is he all right?"

"Define _all right_," Jacob muttered, his tone bitter. "I guess he's as okay as he can be. He's said to tell you he's sorry he was an ass. What's that about?"

"Nothing important," I assured him.

"Right," he said doubtfully. Then he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and another, and another. "I'm not going to be able to stay, I'm... kind of in charge of this."

I blinked and leaned away, trying to see Jacob's face. "In charge?"

"Sam isn't ready to phase yet," he explained, "and, well... someone's got to talk Quil through it. Leah and Seth are still in pretty rough shape because of how bad we messed all _that_ up. He needs to be guided and stuff, so... yeah." His voice turned from bitter to miserable in an instant. "It has to be me."

I frowned, confused by his reaction. "That's not so bad though, right? I mean, it makes sense. You're Quil's friend, he'll listen to you."

"Yeah, but it's... it means more than that." Jacob sighed and curled his hands around my waist, his thumbs rubbing warm circles into my hips. "Sam wants me to take over as Alpha."

My eyes widened with shock. "What? Why? Does he think he's not going to get better?"

"No, he'll be fine. It's a bloodlines thing."

I waited for more explanation, but didn't get any; Jacob just continued to hold onto me and stroke his cheek against my hair. Finally I said, "Okay, bloodlines thing?"

He sighed again. "I'm descended from Ephraim Black, so apparently I was _always_ supposed to be Alpha."

"Really?" I said, surprised. I hadn't heard this before.

"Yeah. Sam's the oldest, and he phased first, so it made sense for him to take charge. But now he's hurt and I've got a better handle on the whole wolf thing, so... he thinks this is a good time for the transition."

"And you don't want it," I guessed. Except it wasn't really a guess.

"No." His hands shook against my sides. "I don't. I don't want _any_ of it, Bella. I don't want to be some legendary chief. I didn't even want to be _part _of a pack, let alone their leader. I just want everyone to leave me alone again."

"Jacob," I whispered.

"This is going to be my whole _life_, there won't be anything left-"

"There will be plenty left," I said. Yet again, I cursed my hands for being useless to me at moments like this. The burns were less livid, and the bones were mending, but I was still nowhere near healed. "You don't have to take anything you don't want."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, _I_ am," I said firmly. Not caring about any potential mixed messages, I hooked one leg over his hip and held him against me in the closest approximation of a hug I could manage. "Quil will be okay, Sam will heal, and you can figure out the rest of it later."

Jacob stilled for a long minute, then very slowly lowered his hand to where my leg hitched over his side. As he ran the flat of his palm along my thigh, from my hip to my knee, I felt the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of my pajamas. The mood shifted abruptly. "You know, I was right," he teased, his voice low and husky. "I _definitely_ have to freak out more often." His lips brushed across my cheek, just barely to the left of my mouth.

My heart skipped a few beats.

When the contact changed between us at moments like this - moments that were creeping up with increasing frequency - waiting for our 'prom' to try adjusting our relationship status seemed really stupid. As much as I wanted Jacob to have one of the few _normal _milestones that were in my power to give him, I was beginning to feel... impatient. And it wasn't difficult to tell, when the heat of his body was pressed along mine, that Jacob was feeling impatient too.

But impatient or not, I refused to engage in any activities in which I couldn't be an equal participant. If something was going to happen I wanted to have the use of at least _one_ of my hands, damn it. And since that was still weeks away, it made sense to wait.

It was just frustrating.

I shifted beneath Jacob; he pressed a heated kiss to my forehead and rolled off of me. "I really can't stay," he said, and his tone made it clear how unhappy he was about it. "I shouldn't have left in the first place, but... yeah." One hand was still brushing my waist. "Wanted to see you."

I had to resist the urge to whine childishly. It was moments like _this_ that I most wanted to use the imprint... not only to keep him by my side where he fit so well, but to save him from having to return to the pack and the responsibility that was threatening to pull him under.

But Quil had phased, I reminded myself. I wasn't the only one who needed Jacob. And Quil would surely be the last one, now that Victoria was dead; once he and the Clearwaters had had a chance to adjust, the pack could relax. Things would slow down and get easier. In the meantime, Sam was right: I'd just have to learn to share. "Thanks for stopping by," I said softly, brushing my cheek against Jacob's bicep. "Even if it was only for five minutes."

Jacob sighed heavily. "It would be easier if you could come to La Push," he grumbled. "Any luck with that?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Everybody misses you," he said, pressing. "It's not just me. Emily's got this big list of recipes she wants to show you and Embry says 'only Buffy's allowed to light the bonfires from now on.' Even Paul keeps asking when you're coming back."

"I miss everyone too." It was a both sad and satisfying feeling. "But Charlie's not letting up. He thinks you're a member of some kind of dangerous... I don't know what. I'm not even sure what he's thinking anymore, except that Sam Uley is a James Bond villain." Jacob snickered. "But," I continued, "it fits with the only information he's got, you know? There's nothing I can say that will make it all make sense to him... except the truth."

He shook his head, frowning. "That's not my call."

"I know," I said quickly. "I know. But... maybe you could talk to Billy? Or Sam? I mean, Charlie's the chief of police. There might be times that that could be useful, when... I don't know, when you need help with 'missing hiker' stories or something-"

"Bells," he interrupted me, "I don't think that'll make a difference. Even Embry's _mom_ doesn't know, and it's making his life hell. If they're not going to make an exception for her, they're not going to make an exception for Charlie."

I hadn't really expected him to say otherwise, but it was still disappointing. "Yeah, but I also can't just let Charlie think I'm in danger... which he thinks I'm in whenever I'm around any of you. I can't do that to him. So we're kind of in a bind."

Jacob rubbed his eyes, then brought my right hand to his mouth and kissed the pad of my thumb. A shiver ran through my body at the gesture. "I'll try," he said finally. "You keep talking to Charlie, and I'll see what I can do on my end. Maybe my dad can work something out, get around the rules somehow." He smirked. "That's a Black family specialty, after all."

I smiled in return. "I picked up on that, yeah. And I'll be going back to school day after tomorrow. He'll relax once I start leaving the house and don't fall off a cliff or anything." I hoped.

"We're still doing prom though, right? I didn't go through all that trouble to find a VHS copy of Pretty in Pink for no reason."

"Oh, definitely." I had worked it all out. "I'm going to tell Charlie I'm sleeping over at Angela's. He likes Angela, he can't object to that. Then you can come pick me up from there; Angela won't mind."

Jacob's eyes widened. "Uh... so... you'll be spending the night, then?" he said uncertainly.

I blinked... and felt my face burning with a fiery blush as I realized the implications. "_Oh. _Um... I... I _could_, I guess. Except, I mean, Billy's there, so I should probably stay at Emily's-"

"Sure, sure," he interrupted. "That would work great. But... well..." Jacob was blushing too. "My dad goes to bed really early and stuff, so... it would... you know, probably be okay. For you to stay, I mean. If... if you wanted to."

The heat from my cheeks was rapidly spreading across my entire body. "Would _you _want me to?"

Jacob swallowed, his eyes still wide. "Well... yeah. Of course I would. But it's fine if you don't, that's cool, it's not a big deal or anything-"

"How about we decide on that later," I suggested.

"_Yes_. Later." He nodded vigorously. "Later is good."

"Okay."

We were both silent for a few minutes as we tried to recover from the most awkward conversation of my life.

Finally Jacob sighed again, uncurling his hand from my side. "I really do have to leave," he said. He sounded miserable. "I'm staying for a ton of time tomorrow, though, even if I have to leave Jared in charge."

"That wouldn't go very well."

"Nope, but I don't care."

After a long moment in which Jacob _still_ didn't get out of bed, I said gently, "You better get going." I was careful not to make it sound like an order. Three nights ago I'd told him he _had_ to get something to eat before he collapsed, and he'd instantly gone down to the kitchen to make a sandwich and nearly gotten caught by Charlie. But once we had more time and could practice lessening the effects of my commands, I was confident we'd figure something out.

We would make the imprint work for us, somehow. I was sure of it.

Jacob pouted, then leaned forward to brush his nose across my throat, inhaling deeply. He liked the way I smelled, he'd admitted bashfully; at one point he had actually licked the skin of my collarbone, and I'd almost spontaneously combusted. "Okay," he murmured. "See you tomorrow night, honey."

"See you tomorrow night," I echoed with a smile.

It took him another few seconds to actually climb out of bed, but he did so finally with a little discontented noise. The muscles of his bare chest were dimly outlined in the glow of the night light, and it took a great deal of effort not to stare shamelessly. _Mine_, I thought with a certain ownership that I suspected was partially a result of the imprint; it was something else I ought to work on, but at moments like this, I really wasn't inclined to do so.

Then again, maybe I would have thought of him as _my_ Jacob anyway. It was aggravating, to not know.

As he turned to go, I wiggled and poked him in the back with my foot. "Look under the bed."

Jacob gave me an odd look, then lifted the comforter out of the way and bent over to peek. "Hey!" He pulled out a pair of Charlie's old hiking boots. "Shoes!"

I exhaled in relief as he slipped them on, feeling pleased; I hadn't forgotten Jared's reaction, so I hadn't actually been sure if he'd be happy. It had taken me two trips to get them up the stairs from the basement, one boot at a time, the shoelace wrapped around my index finger. "Well, I promised you I would find some. Sorry it took so long."

"No problem." He stood and stamped a few times, very quietly. "They fit pretty good." Then he grinned at me. "Thanks, Bells."

I felt surprisingly shy, all of the sudden. "You're welcome."

Jacob gave me another quick peck on the forehead before turning to leave. The window didn't give the smallest squeak as he opened it, and I burrowed back into bed, prepared to get a few more hours of sleep before breakfast...

Then the sudden, shocking tension in the room flashed across my skin like a lightning strike.

"Bella?" I heard Jacob say in a strange voice. I sat up as quickly as I could; he was looking out the window, down at the ground, tightly coiled hostility radiating off of his body in waves. "Are you expecting company?"

"No," I said, confused. "Why?"

A low growl rumbled from somewhere deep inside Jacob's chest.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, my arms crept inward, ready to wrap around my chest. But my injured hands wouldn't allow me to do so.

I knew what was about to happen, as sure as if _I'd_ been the one who could see the future.

"I'd like to speak to Bella," a voice floated softly through my window. Even with the frigid tone, the voice was like liquid gold, the intonation of every word perfect and pure. It instantly reminded me of gloriously blissful summer days, cold but strong arms, whispered promises and assurances of unconditional, undying love.

My body vibrated with absolute pleasure. "_Edward_," I whispered.

Jacob took one look at me and slammed the window shut.

I blinked, jolted back to reality by the sharp noise. "Quiet!" I hissed.

Jacob's shuddering frame told me he was beyond listening. He paced back and forth a few times, fists clenching and unclenching, glancing between the window and my bedroom door before seeming to make a decision. His hand reached back for the window latch.

"Jake," I said quickly, scrambling out of bed. "wait. Wait a minute, okay?"

"No."

I was getting better at not tripping over my own feet, since I had no way to catch myself if I fell, but it was still a close call as I stumbled to his side. I glanced through the pane, hoping see a vision of Edward's chiseled face, his bronze hair... "What are you going to do? Fight him?"

"Yep."

My stomach dropped as I turned away from the window. "No. No, you _can't_, he'll kill you-"

"What?" Jacob's expression was both furious and wounded. "You think I can't take him?"

"No, I don't think you can!" I felt dizzy and faint, as though I might pass out at any moment. Jacob Black and Edward Cullen circling in the woods, both going for a fatal blow - this _had_ to be a nightmare. It had to be.

The wounded look increased. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said bitterly before reaching for the latch again.

I smacked his hand with my cast. It sent a little reverberation of pain through my broken fingers. "Edward can read minds!" I said desperately. "He'll know what you're going to do the moment you think of it! He's not here for you, you don't have to do this!"

Jacob blinked, flabbergasted. "He _reads minds_? Why didn't you tell me that?"

"It never came up!" I edged between Jacob and the window.

"Get out of my way, Bella," he demanded. He was all wolf right now, instinct and leashed temper; it had only taken moments for the _Jacobness _to bleed out of him this time.

"No," I said stubbornly. "Just calm down for a minute, Jacob, think about this before you do anything."

"Oh, I'm thinking about it," he said, his voice dripping with acid in a way I hadn't heard in quite awhile. "I'm thinking that the bloodsucker who made _me _a werewolf and broke _you _into pieces is down there like fucking Romeo under the balcony and you're going to-" He broke off suddenly and looked away, biting his lower lip, struggling to keep his hard mask in place.

My eyes filled with hot tears. I tried to speak around the lump forming in my throat, but no words came out.

"I would like to speak with you as well, Jacob, if you're amenable." Even though Edward's dulcet words were soft and in no danger of waking Charlie, they carried clearly through the closed window.

A shiver of delight ran up my spine at the sound of Edward's voice, and Jacob noticed. His face darkened further. "Is he reading my mind right now?" he asked, glowering at the glass pane.

"Probably," I said, still tingling. "I don't really know what his range is, though."

Jacob narrowed his eyes and was silent. A moment later I heard Edward say disapprovingly, "There's no need for that kind of language."

Jacob swore aloud as I groaned. "I have to go down there, Bella." His shuddering had stopped at least, but his voice was still hard. "If nothing else, the pack needs to know what the bloodsuckers are doing. I _have_ to go."

I wasn't as fond of Romeo and Juliet these days as I had once been, but the simple, easy stage directions of Romeo's return came to me. _They fight; Paris falls._

Blazing, molten terror burned through my body.

"Fine," I said, sliding past him and reaching for my closet. I pinched Emily's hoodie off of the hook - the front pocket was ripped, but otherwise it was still functional. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"You expect me to just sit here and wait for one of you to return?" I shot back as I dropped the hoodie on my bed and tried to figure out the best way to put it on. "No. If I'm there you won't fight. I'm coming."

"Seriously, Bella, it won't be safe," Jacob pleaded. "I'm not trying to be one of those guys, I'm _not_, but I can't see you in the middle of a standoff between a vampire and a werewolf _again_. Isn't once a week enough?"

I glared at him. "Can you promise me you won't fight each other? _Really_ promise?" If he made promises to me he had to keep them.

Jacob met my eyes for a long moment, then looked away and blew out a frustrated breath. He didn't respond.

"That's what I thought." I reached down and tried to wriggle my left arm through the sleeve. Whenever I brushed my hand it gave a sharp protest of pain.

Then Jacob picked up the hoodie and pulled it gently over my shoulders, helping me into it as though he were offering me his jacket on a cool night. "I don't like this," he said darkly, doing up the buttons with skilled fingers.

"I wouldn't expect you to," I said. "But it'll be fine."

"Sure, sure," he grumbled. "I'm not jumping out the window with you, though, so we better be quiet."

My heart beat wildly in my chest as Jacob and I snuck out of the house. I carefully avoided the creaky step on the stairs, listening hard for any sign of a change the snores coming from Charlie's bedroom. If he woke up and caught us, someone was going to get shot. It might even be me. Luck was on our side, though, and after what felt like an eternity, we slipped out the front door without a sound.

Edward stood just under the oak tree, still and silent.

Not a thing had changed about him. Not a single thing. His face was as flawless as the first time I'd laid eyes him, his ghostly marble skin nearly glowing in the night. As his ocher eyes burned into mine, I realized my delusions of the last several months were more flawed than I'd realized; they hadn't come close to doing him justice. I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my eighteen years on earth, and I knew I never would again.

"Bella." Edward spoke my name softly, reverently, his voice brushing across my senses like soft velvet. My knees buckled and Jacob's warm arm caught me before I collapsed to the ground.

Edward stepped forward quickly, his angel's face full of concern, but Jacob's warning glare brought him up short. His expression cooled into a cordial mask. "Hello, Jacob Black," he said politely, nodding.

Jacob ignored him, but I heard his teeth grind.

My wits began to come back to me. I glanced up anxiously at Charlie's bedroom window. "You can't do this here," I whispered. "If my dad wakes up..."

Edward's eyes flicked away from my face to look at the house. "Of course," he said quietly. Then he turned back to me and gestured towards the slender path that divided the dark fringe of the forest in two. "May I speak to you privately, Bella?" His musical voice was surprisingly hesitant, as though he were unsure of my answer. How could he be unsure of my answer?

Jacob's arm tightened around my waist.

Edward blinked a few times, his head cocked to the side. Then his expression collapsed into a look of ancient sadness, as though a hundred years of sorrow had come to the surface in one moment of pure grief. "I see," he murmured, almost to himself. "Well, I can hardly blame you."

"Get out of my head," Jacob snarled, clearly unnerved. I knew he didn't even like his brothers hearing his thoughts, let alone one of his mortal enemies. Then he looked down at me. "Or is he in _your_ head?"

"No," I said, my voice weak. "He can't read my thoughts. I'm the only one."

"Oh. Weird."

I nodded, hearing the barely contained tension Jacob's voice, feeling the way his fingers were digging into my hip. I realized that I couldn't speak to Edward alone; if I left Jacob in the yard while I walked off into the forest with a 'bloodsucker' he might phase from sheer instinctual panic. It was asking too much.

"I want to talk," I said to Edward, still nearly breathless at the vision of his beauty, "but... but Jake should come too." The words took effort to form, but I managed it. Somehow.

Edward paused for a long moment, then nodded. "Of course. Whatever you desire, Bella."

What I _desired_ was to throw myself forward into those marble arms, feel them wrap around my body, and hear him promise that he would never leave again. I wanted to hear Edward's musical voice tell me that I was his whole life and we would be together for eternity. There would be more joy in my life than I deserved, more than any one person could hope for-

-but no. Edward _had_ left. Edward didn't want me anymore. He'd only returned to kill the person he believed had killed me; he was here out of a sense of guilt and responsibility. I needed to stop with this foolish optimism before it carried me away.

Edward turned to go, and I tried to follow - but stopped when Jacob didn't come with me. He was bending over and removing his boots. "Just in case," he said when he caught my look. "Don't want to wreck them."

Then he wrapped his arm back around my waist and didn't let go as we walked into the darkness of the woods.

As soon as we were a safe distance away from the house, Edward came to a halt with a graceful movement. Even under the shade of the trees his skin was luminescent. I wondered if it sparkled in the moonlight as it did in the sun; I'd never had occasion to see. But as I tried to get closer, Jacob's grip tightened, keeping me at a distance. I glared up at him; he didn't notice. He was focused entirely on the enemy. He looked at Edward the way he'd looked at Victoria.

Once Edward realized I wouldn't be coming any closer, he sighed. "Bella," he said, the velvet in his voice full of longing. "Oh, Bella-"

"I want to talk business," Jacob interrupted.

Edward blinked, then looked at Jacob with surprise. "Are you authorized to speak for your pack?"

Jacob drew himself up tall; he suddenly seemed stronger, unyielding. He radiated total authority. For a moment I saw the Alpha he was supposed to be. "Yes, I am. And I want to know how long it will be before you and the other bloodsuckers get out of here."

There was a long moment of silence. Finally, Edward said, "We aren't."

My breath caught in my chest.

I felt another shudder against the side of my body. "Excuse me?" Jacob said slowly.

"We aren't leaving," Edward repeated. "My family will be staying in Forks indefinitely."

For the first time, Jacob released me; his hands clenched at his sides as he strode forward. "_The hell you are!_" he roared. "What the hell's going to happen to everyone if you stay? Seth Clearwater phased this week - he's in _eighth grade!_ Who's next? There are still _plenty_ of kids from the right bloodlines - are you going to ruin their lives too?"

Edward frowned, his expression full of genuine regret. "I do apologize for the... inconveniences," he said. "It wasn't our intention. If you keep the youth further back from the boundary line it should lessen the effect of our presence."

Violent tremors shook Jacob's entire body. "_Move them back on our own lands?_"

Fear shot through me. If Jacob phased now, I didn't know what would happen. "Jake," I whispered, moving towards him. "Jake, calm down-"

"Bella, stop!" Edward commanded, his eyes on Jacob, his honeyed voice full of fear. Fear for _me_. "He's not in control!"

But Jacob was already somewhat himself again; only his arms were shaking now. He stepped back towards my side as he scowled at Edward with pure hate. "_I_ would never hurt her," he said.

A low hiss escaped from between Edward's lips as Jacob's words struck home.

This was so much worse than Embry and Alice in my hospital room. I had to intervene before things got completely out of hand. "Edward," I said, and his name felt so _right_ as it rolled off of my tongue, "why are you staying?" I swallowed. "There's... there's nothing for you here. Victoria's dead. You can all go back to your new lives."

Edward stared at me for a long moment, his liquid topaz eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. I felt myself drowning in them, and drowning was the most pleasant sensation I could imagine. "We're staying to protect you," he murmured, his voice like a caress. "To keep you safe from harm."

I blinked. "But I don't need protecting anymore."

Edward's eyes moved to Jacob. "There are more dangers in the world than Victoria," he said quietly.

Jacob snorted in disgust.

"You... you can't mean..." My confusion faded into clarity, and I sucked in a sharp breath - pulling a sweet scent into my lungs. "Edward, you don't have to protect me from Jacob."

"He's a werewolf," Edward said, still staring at Jacob. His eyes abruptly narrowed and his face took on a dangerous expression - though it remained unreal in its beauty. "A _young_ werewolf. I can read his thoughts, Bella, and his temper is _not_-"

"I told you to stay out of my head." Jacob's breath was coming more quickly now.

"That's just because you're here," I explained hastily. "Jacob doesn't like it when vampires are around me, it's instinct, it's nothing you need to be worried about. I'm not in danger from him."

"And the rest of the werewolves?" Edward glanced between Jacob and I, and I knew he'd like nothing more than to step protectively in front of me - an action that would most assuredly lead to someone getting killed. "Are they nothing to worry about as well? Bella, I left you here so you would be _safe_; it never occurred to me that you would turn around and become friends with the worst creatures out there-"

"Don't talk about them like that," I said. I felt the usual flicker of anger under my skin... but it didn't rise to the surface. Something dark was beginning to tickle at the back of my mind. "And you didn't leave to keep me safe." My voice couldn't form into more than a whisper. "You left me because you didn't want me."

The scar tissue in my chest threatened to split; the hole fought to reopen.

Jacob shifted restlessly by my side, as though he were preparing himself for a blow.

"Oh, Bella," Edward said sadly. "Was I _such_ a good liar?"

I froze. "What?"

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I lied to keep you safe, and it didn't work. But how could you believe me? After all the thousand times I've told you I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?"

I didn't answer. I was too shocked to form a rational response.

"I could see it in your eyes, that you honestly _believed_ that I didn't want you anymore. The most absurd, ridiculous concept - as if there were any way that _I_ could exist without needing _you!_"

I was still frozen. His words were incomprehensible, because they were impossible.

"Even now, I wonder if I should stay away from you," Edward continued. "But I'm not as strong as you give me credit for. I was thinking of you, seeing your face in my mind, every second that I was away. Before Alice called to tell me about Victoria, I was already past trying to live through one week at a time, or even one day. I was fighting to make it through a single hour. It was only a matter of time - and not much of it - before I showed up at your window and begged you to take me back." He paused for a moment, then added in his soft, velvet voice, "I'd be happy to beg now, if you'd like that."

A low noise came from Jacob - something between a laugh and a moan.

I tried to form words as the earth shifted under my feet. "I- I can't-"

Edward's face was paler than his usual pale - I could see that even in the dim light. "You don't believe me, do you? Why would you believe the lie, but not the truth?"

"It... it never made sense for you to love me." I shook my head, struggling to keep my voice from breaking. "I always knew that." My eyes filled with tears that spilled over faster than I could have imagined possible. "And you _knew_ I knew that!"

Edward nodded, his impossibly perfect face full of anguish. "Yes. I did. When I told you that I didn't want you, it was the very blackest form of blasphemy."

A sob constricted my battered heart. "But you _knew!_ You _knew_ I would believe you! You _knew_ I never felt I was good enough, you _knew_ it, how could you tell me that, how could you use that against me? I _trusted_ you!"

Grief, doubt, and fury beat hard against my bones and stole my breath away - but they were smothered by intense, blinding joy.

Edward still loved me.

Except, for some reason, the tears didn't stop.

"I understand if you can't forgive me." Edward's melodic tones rang in my ears. "I will certainly never forgive myself. But I won't make the same mistake twice. I left hoping you would be safe, but it seems you _can't_ be safe, no matter how many miles I put between us." His eyes flicked to Jacob. "Alice was right; I see that now. I was a fool to think you could survive on your own."

That... that wasn't right. "But I _did_ survive," I managed to say, testing out my words. They felt wrong, somehow; I doubted the truth of them.

"Barely." Edward's voice took on a hard edge as he looked at my bandaged and casted arms. "Obviously your protection has been inadequate."

Jacob flinched.

"But I _survived_," I repeated, feeling foggy. "I'm alive." I looked down at my left hand. It was wrapped in bandages; it throbbed with nearly constant pain; the doctors had warned that the scarring would be severe. And yet every time I saw it I remembered clicking on the lighter and that little swell of pride came back. "I'm alive and I killed Victoria."

Edward shook his head. "You were lucky," he said gently, still looking at my hands with clear anxiety. "You were so _lucky_, Bella..."

"No," I whispered. But hadn't I thought the same thing myself? That it was nothing but luck? "I... I did it, I did!" The pride faded as the truth of his words cut into me like a blade between my ribs. The fear crept in, the strange suppressed terror that I'd felt as Victoria wrapped her hand around my neck... I looked up at Jacob, eyes wide. "Didn't I?" I asked uncertainly.

Jacob's face was stony - his bitter, hard wolf mask in place, like he was trying to protect himself from something terrible. "Bella, don't let him-" Then he stopped speaking abruptly. His russet skin turned a sallow green as his hand came up to grab my chin, tilting my face towards his. He bent to peer into my eyes, examining my expression - and the bitter mask disappeared, replaced by an understanding sort of horror.

He released me and turned to face Edward with a furious snarl. "_Stop it_," he snapped. "Stop it or I'll rip your throat out."

"Stop what?" I felt confused, disoriented, torn in too many directions.

"It wasn't just that red-haired bitch, was it?" Jacob stepped forward, putting himself between Edward and I. His shaking had returned; his entire frame vibrated like a turning fork. "You can _all_ do it."

I couldn't think about what he was saying. I didn't want to think about it.

"I don't do it deliberately." Edward's voice was mournful. "It's an unavoidable side effect of our condition."

The black thing in my mind fought harder for my attention, until-

_I'm the world's best predator, aren't I?_

I'd remembered that only days ago, but it couldn't be, it _couldn't_, it was only because I loved him, because we were so attuned to each other, like two halves of a whole...

"And all this time I've been worried that _I've_ been brainwashing her!" Jacob shouted. His shape was beginning to blur around the edges.

Victoria, yes; Alice, maybe; but not... The pull to him was so much _stronger..._

_Everything about me invites you in - my voice, my face, even my smell._

My brain tried to shove the knowledge somewhere back to the deepest recesses of my mind, into the dusty box where I'd hidden it for so long... but it wouldn't go. The truth blazed its way across my consciousness, ghastly and monstrous and, now, undeniable.

Edward started to say something, then snapped his mouth shut and tilted his head to the side, frowning at Jacob. "What's an 'imprint'?" he asked suddenly.

Jacob gritted his teeth and brought his fists up to his temples as though that would protect his mind.

"_I'm_ an imprint," I heard myself say. "I'm _Jacob's_ imprint." There was a tiny patter as the tears dripped from my face and hit the carpet of leaves covering the forest floor. Jacob had been terrified of the effect the imprint might have had on my head; even I'd wondered and worried, but now... this was so much worse. This was unimaginably worse. "Is it true?" I whispered, looking at Edward. His flawless face was blurry to my vision. "How much..." I swallowed painfully. "How much of what I feel is because you're a... a..."

"A predator?" Edward supplied. "I don't know. I wish I did... but I _did_ warn you, Bella. I warned you from the very beginning." He smiled a despairing smile. "I warned you that I'm the most selfish creature on earth... because I didn't care... and I still don't. Right and wrong have ceased to mean much to me. You are the only thing in my world. You are the reason I exist - and I'll take your love in any form it's offered."

Another sob escaped from my throat as I took a step backward.

"Ah." His expression was tormented but resigned. "_Now_ you're afraid of me. I always hoped you would be, you know."

Jacob's shape continued to blur in the night air. He was very, very close to phasing. "Get out of here," he managed to say.

Edward shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Yes it is. Go or I'll kill you."

I shuddered in fear. _They fight; Paris falls._

"That would be a treaty violation." Edward's tone had become cool and formal. "Unless I'm much mistaken, as long as we don't bite any humans, the agreement between your tribe and my family is still in effect. We stay off of your lands; you don't transform on ours."

"To hell with the treaty," Jacob spat.

"I don't believe you mean that," Edward said. He paused as though he were listening, then conceded, "Well, perhaps you do. But you won't once you have control of yourself again. There is too much at stake. A war between your people and mine would be disadvantageous to us both." His face turned towards me and his tawny eyes burned into mine. "And the crossfire could be devastating," he said, his voice thick with worry.

Traitorous pleasure shot through my body as he stared at me, and for the first time, I honestly, truly feared myself. "Please don't, Edward," I begged. "Just... just go."

Edward sighed, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Bella," he said, and I knew he meant it. "I could apologize every minute of every day for a thousand years and it still wouldn't convey the depth of my regret. Hate me, please. Turn away from me, make me suffer for what I've done to you; it's no less than what I deserve. But I am not going to leave. I will never leave you unprotected again."

A growl escaped from Jacob - not a human approximation, but a real growl. An animal noise.

I had to get him away before he lost his temper entirely. "Jake, come on," I whispered, tears still choking my voice. "I... I want to go back to bed, okay?" I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. "I want to go home."

It took Jacob a long moment to tear his eyes away from Edward and look at me, but once he did, his expression softened - a little. I saw him form my name on his lips a few times. "All right," he rasped. "All right." He reached for my waist and curled his fingers around my hip; I felt the warmth of his fingers through my clothes as he guided me back down the path. I wished more than anything that I could hold his hand.

"Jacob, one more thing."

He stiffened and turned.

"Let me give you a word of warning." Edward was absolutely still, his eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at his enemy; I'd rarely seen him look so dangerous. "If any harm comes to Bella during the times she is out of my reach - if she so much as stubs her toe - _I_ will be the one who says to hell with the treaty."

Then he looked to me. He had never been more dazzling than he was in this moment. "I'll see you in school, Bella," he whispered. I shut my eyes to try and blink back the tears, but when I opened them again, Edward was gone without so much as a rustle of leaves... as though he'd never been there.

I started shivering.

We'd barely made it out of the woods before my shaky legs gave out; my vision tunelled as I sank onto a fallen log at the forest's edge. I dropped my head to between my knees, forcing the air in as I had so many times in recent days - one breath at a time.

I felt a hot hand on the back of my neck. It shook violently for a moment, then the touch disappeared with a curse. "Sorry, Bells," a strangled voice said. "Give me a minute." I felt the warmth pull away and saw rapid, furious movement out of the corner of my eye as bare feet paced back and forth with inhuman speed.

Two breaths. Three.

_Too much too much too much._

My senses were betraying me; even now part of me wanted to go right back down the path and find Edward, to smell that glorious scent and drown in his eyes. I had loved him for so long, but how much of it was real? How much of it had _ever_ been real? Then I thought of the imprint - more magic, more supernatural connection. What if what I felt for _Jacob_ wasn't real? How could I believe _anything_?

Fresh sobs heaved out of my body.

Then the hot hands were back, cupping my cheeks and raising my face. "Bella." Jacob crouched in front of me, wiping away my tear tracks with his thumbs. "Aw, Bells, honey, don't cry." I closed my eyes as he kissed each of my wet lashes. "It's gonna be all right," he murmured, leaning his forehead against my own.

It felt so natural when he touched me like this, but how could I trust it?

_Because you knew him before,_ my mind told me.

I shivered as I cried, and Jacob's warm arms pulled me off the log and into his lap. This time, _I_ was the one who buried my face in _his_ neck as I gasped for air and tried in vain to control my hysteria; he pressed his hands against the small of my back and whispered nonsense that seemed to be mostly comprised of _safe_ and _love you_ and my name, always my name.

I knew Jacob before. I didn't know Edward before he was a vampire, but I knew Jacob before he was a werewolf. I knew him when he was all long hair and gangly frame and sunny smiles. I knew him before he imprinted. I knew him. I knew his touch. Some things had changed, I knew they had, but not that. His touch hadn't changed.

They weren't the same, I repeated to myself as I cried messily against his throat. They were different. _This_ was different. _I_ was different. Different, not less. Sure. Different and _sure_.

Slowly, so slowly, I began to calm down.

Jacob waited until my breathing became more even and my sobs had degenerated into sniffles before pulling back. His hands rested on my shoulders as he scanned my face, black-brown eyes searching me. "He's like a drug for you, isn't he," Jacob said finally. His temper wasn't on display now; his voice was soft and scared. "He does something to your head."

I gulped as my shivering slowly lessened. "I... I don't know, Jake." That was the most terrifying part of all. I _didn't_ know. The idea that I had never loved Edward at all was unthinkable; I knew in every part of my being that _that_ wasn't true. But he was definitely having some sort of effect - I couldn't deny that, not anymore - and I had no idea what the extent was. "I think so."

Jacob swallowed, then nodded. "Okay," he said, standing and helping me to my feet with a hand under my elbow. Then he turned and tugged me gently towards the road. "Okay. Let's go."

"Go?" I asked, confused. "Go where?"

"To La Push," he said as though it were obvious. "I have to get back to the pack, tell them what's going on - ugh, and Quil!" He swore under his breath. "We have to figure out what happens next and you've got to stay inside the treaty line until we do. You can move in with Emily. She'll be thrilled."

"But... but I can't," I said faintly. My eyes flicked up to my father's bedroom window.

Jacob followed my gaze, then shook his head. "He'll be fine, Bells. Leave a note or something."

"A _note?_" I held back a high-pitched giggle. "Saying what? 'Sorry Dad, I'm dropping out of school to go live with Sam Uley's cult'?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

I shook my head. "I _can't_, Jake. He'll freak out, and then he'll arrest you all for kidnapping. He thinks..." I gulped, unable to say it out loud. "He thinks you're doing terrible things to me. If I disappear he'll come to the reservation with his shotgun. I'm not kidding. Someone will get seriously hurt."

"We can take a bullet, Bells," he said stubbornly.

"Sure, but can you do it without getting upset? Can you really tell me that if, say, Paul got shot, he wouldn't phase and rip Charlie in half by accident?"

Jacob frowned, but he couldn't deny it.

"Besides," I continued, glancing back up at the window, "he's... you're all Billy's got, Jacob, could _you_ just leave _him_?"

That brought him up short; he had to look down at the ground for a few moments, several emotions flitting across his face in quick succession. "Yes," he said finally. "I could. For you. _Please_, Bella. The bloodsucker is right-" he grimaced as he said the words "-there's going to be crossfire and you'll be right in the middle of it. Maybe there won't be a war, but... the leeches can't stay. We'll have ten -year-old werewolves on our hands before we know it. And you'll be... seeing him, sitting across from him in the damn cafeteria, and he'll be messing with your head the whole time-"

A frightening combination of horror and hope tingled through me at the thought; I fought it back. "Jake, it'll be okay."

"_No_, it won't." Jacob was beginning to shake again. He met my eyes feverishly, in that way that he was only just starting to let me see - not holding back his love or his adoration or his need. The way a werewolf looked at his imprint. "Bella, if you change your mind... if you decide to go back to him and you tell me you just want to be friends-"

"Jake-"

"-then you should know that I won't accept it," Jacob said. His body continued to tremble, but his voice was strong and sure. "I'll fight for you. I'll fight every step of the way and I'll fight dirty. I won't play the martyr, Bella, I _won't_. You're... you're _my_ imprint, _mine_, and I won't just step aside."

I stepped forward and leaned my cheek against Jacob's chest, listening to his heartbeat against my ear. It was flying. "You won't have to," I murmured. "I promise. Trust me."

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me closer, sighing. "It's that bloodsucker I don't trust," he muttered.

The problem was, he wasn't wrong. Jacob had every reason to be afraid; Edward - and the other Cullens - had a pull that I wasn't sure I could resist for long. And if something else happened to me, if I got hurt, even by accident... Edward had meant what he said, I had no doubt about it. He would break the treaty and come for Jacob if given the smallest excuse. _Jacob_ might break the treaty and come for Edward even _without_ an excuse. And who knew how _Charlie _would react to any of it.

The situation was untenable, balanced on a knife's edge.

"Give me some time," I whispered.

Jacob looked down at me, confused. "Time?"

"I can't just disappear in the middle of the night." I stepped back and wiped my eyes with my thumb. "Let me keep working on Charlie... see if I can bring him around. You can try and convince the Council to let me tell him the truth. Things might be different, now, right? With the Cullens staying?"

"Maybe," he said doubtfully. "How much time?"

I thought quickly. "Graduation."

Jacob groaned. "That's _weeks_ away. No."

"I'll be able to finish school," I insisted. "I'll be able to keep going to the doctor for my hands. It's plenty of time to prove to Charlie that he's wrong about you, and... well..." I swallowed. "If I can't, at least it won't be such a shock when I move out. I'm a legal adult, and I'll have a diploma; he won't have any right to come after me." I prayed it wouldn't come to that. The thought broke my heart, but it wasn't any different for me than it was for Jacob. If I had to choose, _had_ to, I'd pick Jake over my father.

But I wouldn't choose between them until I was absolutely sure that I had no other option.

"And what about the leech?" Jacob's agitation radiated off of his body, filling me with unease.

I bit my lip, trying to think. "I'll tell Charlie that he's back," I said finally. "And that it's uncomfortable. With the way things are now, Charlie will probably drive me to school in the cruiser every day and keep me under house arrest in the evenings." It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was the best I could come up with. "You can still come see me at night. And during school... Jake, it's not like he's going to _hurt_ me or anything. I won't be in _danger_. It'll be fine. Nothing will happen."

I had hoped I would sound more confident than I felt - but given Jacob's rumble of displeasure, it seemed I hadn't.

"Graduation," I repeated, pressing my lips against his chest. "If things aren't better by graduation then we'll do things your way. I'll move to La Push. I'll live with Emily. I'll have my suitcase in hand as I walk across the stage. But I need until then."

After a long moment, I felt Jacob sigh and knew I'd won. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "But you're still coming over for prom."

I smiled, some of the tension fading. "I should think so," I said. "You promised me popcorn. I'm not letting you out of it."

We walked across the yard to the front door, the light from the moon filtering through clouds and the oak tree. When I turned around on the front steps, Jacob was watching me, his expression unreadable as he pulled his boots back on.

"You have to go," I whispered reluctantly.

He nodded, straightening up.

"Well," I said, "say hi to-" That was as far as I got before Jacob's lips met mine, soft and warm.

For a moment I froze - I hadn't seen this coming - but then I was kissing him back. My mouth moved in strange, confusing ways it had never moved before; _I_ wasn't the only one who gave - his skin molded to me just as much as mine did to his. I felt it as his hands slid slowly down my sides to rest at my waist, leaving a trail of blazing heat in their wake that I absorbed even through my clothes.

_Oh_, I thought blankly as my eyes drifted shut. _These_ were the fireworks I'd been wondering about.

Then he reached around to the small of my back and drew me closer with a firm movement, bowing my body against his tall frame, nearly pulling me off the steps. What started as gentle became demanding; I wasn't sure which of us had started asking for more, but more was offered, and more was taken. I burned as I yielded to his touch and he yielded to my mouth, and I could tell from the way he moved against me that my actions were lighting an equal fire in him. The thought thrilled me to my core.

After a moment his hands began to roam, brushing across new terrain with determined fingers and marking it as his own. Unable to reciprocate, I pressed my lips into his with increased urgency; he opened to me as I fervently staked my own claim. I didn't have to be careful with Jacob, and he certainly wasn't being careful with me. I leaned further into his hands, encouraging him, and he made a low noise in his throat as he touched me with even greater confidence.

I liked it. A _lot_.

Eventually, the annoying need to breathe forced me to break away. I stepped back unwillingly, blinking, my head spinning and my body a live wire. I was stunned at my own behavior. I hadn't realized I was capable of such things; it shocked me.

Jacob was staring at me with wonder and elation. "There," he murmured. "_There's_ that thinking-way-too-hard look."

They were such simple words... but everything I felt was suddenly subsumed by a wave of crushing sadness. "I didn't want you to do that," I whispered.

His face turned stricken. "You didn't?"

It was taking a lot of effort to not simply burst into tears yet again. "You're afraid," I said, my voice cracking. "You did that because you're scared I'm going to be taken away. There was a reason I wanted to wait until prom. You shouldn't have had to feel like that during our first kiss, I didn't want you to feel like that... You shouldn't have been afraid."

My heart ached so badly I thought I might collapse. I'd failed. After all this, I'd failed. Jacob was right - his whole life would be about being a werewolf, me included. I'd tried so hard, and I hadn't been able to protect this one little thing. Something as straight-forward as a normal, undramatic kiss, and I hadn't even been able to give _that_ to him. I was the worst rescuer _ever_.

Jacob was observing me neutrally. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I'm scared. But you also have a leaf on your head."

I blinked. "What?"

He pointed. I reached up and felt my hair with my thumb and forefinger, then plucked off a green oak leaf and stared at it wide-eyed.

"It fell when we walked under the tree," he explained with a small smile. "It was cute. I can't not kiss you when you have a leaf on your head, Bells. That's asking _way_ too much of me."

"Oh," I said. That was all I could think of to say.

At that moment, a sudden light shone out of the house. I turned to look. A lamp had been flicked on in my father's room.

Jacob cursed, and I shoved at his chest with my cast. "Get out of here!" I hissed. "Quick!"

He hesitated, then grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to him. His kiss was hot but fleeting; he released me again almost instantly. "Bye, Bells," he said, flashing a huge, sunny grin before fleeing the yard. He ran down the road almost faster than my eye could follow, toward where the first pale, pink signs of dawn were beginning to peek over the horizon.

As I watched him go, I realized I had some serious problems.

My father thought my best friends were members of a dangerous gang and was determined to keep them away from me at all costs.

Said best friends were werewolves suffering from major upheavals; their current leader was injured, their prospective leader didn't want the job, and their ranks were growing steadily with no end in sight.

The local coven of vampires had returned, potentially sparking a severe and dangerous turf struggle.

I was imprinted to a werewolf and drawn to a vampire, two conditions that had to be adjusted and overcome respectively; it was more important than ever that I understand my own mind, and I was terrifyingly unsure of my ability to do so.

If I suffered from one more injury, Jacob, Edward, and Charlie would all set out to kill one another - with no certain victor.

And as all this was happening, I still needed to graduate from high school, go to work, heal my broken and burned hands, and fake a normal life - the normal life that I'd voluntarily relinquished when I made the decision to join the supernatural world. It was a choice I didn't regret... but it was clear to me now that the cost would be high.

Very serious problems. So why did they all suddenly seem insignificant when the front door opened behind me and I caught sight of the expression on Charlie's face?

"I woke up early," I said, interrupting before he started to speak. "I came out to get some fresh air."

Charlie frowned, scanning the front yard. "I thought I heard voices." His tone was suspicious.

"There's no one here." Another misleading, technical truth.

He looked around for another long moment - I thought he might actually beat the bushes - before sighing. "C'mon in, Bells," he said. "I'll make one of those baked omelette things."

"They're called frittatas," I corrected him. "And they're very healthy."

"Whatever," Charlie grumbled. But he smiled as he did. Then he opened the door wide for me.

I squared my shoulders and walked forward into the house, prepared to meet my future in whatever form it took.

_The end._

* * *

_**Coming Soon**: Author's Note_

_**Final Sanity Update**: Hey, Stephenie? That's how you set up conflict. Also, interestingly, I didn't have to make Edward creepy at all. Pretty much all of his lines are direct lifts from the books with some minor adjustments. (And yeah, I gave Jacob an Edward line. It could have gone either way.) By the way, you won't be waiting until Saturday for the author's note. I'd intended to post it today, but I ran out of time. I'll put it up tomorrow._


	17. Author's Note

_**Three months later addendum: When I wrote this I thought I was still fairly rational. In retrospect, eight weeks of breakneck writing and editing, along with the documented physical deterioration, had left me kinda nuts. I stand by the substance of the A/N, but word choice wound up being harsher (read: incoherently raving) than I intended. Next time I'll take a long nap first.**  
_

* * *

_[For the record: I nearly wrote a version of this to tag to the very beginning of the fic. Eventually I held off. My vanity cried bitter, bitter tears, but my sense of fic decorum refused to let me __start_ a story with one of those "I know it sucks but read it anyway" wanks. So I swallowed my pride, settled for sanity updates, and, well... here we are. Better late than never.]

* * *

_**Author's Note**_  
_(or, The Movement of the Earth FAQ)  
(or, "What the fuck was that?")_

* * *

Normally I don't do author's notes, but The Movement of the Earth really does require explanation. Otherwise, the only logical conclusion would be that I've suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury. I haven't. I just did _this_ instead of, say, walking across hot coals or climbing Mount Everest - both of which, in retrospect, would have been less painful.

For I have looked into the eye of the beast, ladies and gentlemen, and it is Stephenie Meyer's writing style.

* * *

**Why in God's name did you write in Meyer-voice?**

_Short answer_: To prove a point.

_Long answer_: So, mid-summer, I got into a conversation with a friend of mine who actually _likes _these books. As always, the discussion quickly degenerated into me yelling about Stephenie Meyer. A lot. In detail. As I paused to catch my breath after a long rant about the dangers of romanticizing stalking (always a favorite), my friend said, "You're a snob."

"Of course I am, but that's not the point."

"Look, I _know_ Meyer can't write. Her prose is really awkward-"

"Is crap, you mean."

"-so it's not like she could have done any better. This is just silly trash and you take it way too seriously."

After _another_ long, snotty rant about how I wasn't taking it too seriously considering that mothers are holding these books up as positive examples for their daughters, I added, "And her lack of talent is no excuse. She could have made the story better even with her lousy prose. It was easy."

"Easy for _you_."

"No, come on, these books practically wrote themselves. It was all right there - first love, accepting yourself as-is, learning to grow up. Easiest themes _ever_. A ten year old could have gotten it right. The woman struck out while playing tee-ball."

My friend's position was more or less that Meyer's deficient style (such as her use of the term "liquid topaz") precluded her from creating a story with worthwhile themes; essentially, that being a "bad writer" encompassed storycraft. I maintained that being a "bad writer" and a "bad storyteller" were separate issues (both of which were the case in Twilight), and while Meyer's voice was undeniably awful, it was not a barrier to devising a poorly-written but still worthwhile plot.

So I decided to try it.

**Husband**: Um... you're going to _what_?

**Me**: Write a whole story in Meyer-voice! It'll be a real challenge!

**Husband**: ...didn't you just finish a story? You stared off into space for a month and threw up a lot. That looked like a challenge to me.

**Me**: Well, yes. But that was different. That was a plot challenge. This is a _craft_ challenge!

**Husband**: ...I'm putting your doctor on speed dial.

Man, I was an idiot.

I think pretty much everything that screams "Twilight" has made it into this story. Absurdly long periods of Bella not knowing what's going on? Check. Filler spaces of melodramatic whining? Check. Backstory exposition disguised as one-sided dialogue? Check. Hit-you-over-the-head metaphors? Check. Unnecessary analogies to English literature? Check. Cheating at narration through insightful dream sequences? Check. Abrupt cliff-hangers? Check. Abuse of adverbs and commas? Check. Murmurs and mutters? Check. (I fell behind on my glower count. I am ashamed.) And yet in spite of these things - and I assure you, it's _in spite of_ - there wound up being a semi-decent story with _some_ exploration of basic themes and a not _completely_ impossible level of character development.

Mind you, is it pretty? Oh, hell no. It's written in Meyer-voice, after all. I'm not a miracle worker. The point is that while Meyer-voice is bad, it's not a story-telling death blow; even with her writing style, New Moon could have been a better book. And I'm personally of the opinion that for all its backstory exposition and horrifying pacing and excess of murmurs, what's written here is still less obnoxious than Volterra.

I am capable of putting a _lot_ of effort into my bitterness.

* * *

**And you added imprinting _why_?**

_Short answer_: I had to do _something_.

_Long answer_: A direct rewrite of New Moon without a divergent plot action would have a) been boring, and b) made canon compliance impossible.

Canon compliance was vital for this whole thing to work. To start from some point in the series and say, "Then Bella decides she doesn't really want to go to Italy!" would have been cheating; I'd be fiating changes into the characters and that would add unnecessary variables into the experiment. (I made a few exceptions for Meyer going OOC with her own creations. Example: why would Bella, who has been suicidally depressed for months, suddenly go into spasms of terror when she realizes Victoria is hunting her? Basic consistency would have her reacting with hopeless resignation. But I digress.) Therefore, a single divergent _plot_ action rather than a divergent _character_ action was necessary, since otherwise canon compliance would demand that the story remain the same. Imprinting was ideal. Quick, clean, obvious, and Meyer-esque.

I don't like imprinting. I _don't_. And not even because it's a creepy subversion of free will - because it's a cheap deus ex machina that Meyer uses to avoid having to actually write about people falling in love. (Where does she do that? Nowhere. Bella and Edward leap from obsessive interest to star-crossed infatuation with no transition; Jacob's sweet crush becomes total devotion practically overnight. It's almost as if Meyer doesn't know how it feels to fall in love. _There's _a depressing thought.) But it can't be denied that imprinting is a very important plot point in the series, and that we were given almost nothing on the function or logistics of it. In spite of my distaste, I was curious about what it would look like if imprinting were shown without being argued (by the author) from any direction, good or bad. It was never my intention to make the reader _like_ imprinting; I only wanted to make the reader _think_ about it.

Then there was the siren call of characterization. Fighting to keep everyone in character through cliche and/or insane plots is my fanfic passion, and imprinting fit the bill. I couldn't see free-will Jacob as being okay with imprinting in this situation (Eclipse!Jacob is another matter entirely); I couldn't see fate-and-destiny Bella as being immediately weirded out by it. Then there was the possibility of putting Bella in a situation wherein she was compelled to think about someone other than herself... and I'd get to play with the wolfpack... and _Victoria..._ well, I couldn't resist.

* * *

**Did you have any success with this ridiculous quest?**

_Short answer_: Kinda.

_Long answer_: Realistically, a lot of things fell by the wayside.

1. In the interest of readability, formatting changes had to be made - paragraph sizes, for example. There's a difference between the way a story appears on a screen versus the written page. New Moon on LJ would be very hard to follow; The Movement of the Earth bound in hardback would be equally difficult. I also added mid-chapter breaks, which Meyer doesn't do. That was a combination of readability and simply having a limit to how much crappy filler I could write per chapter. (It should be noted, however, that I gave up my parenthetical asides. It was a huge sacrifice. Which I'm saying in a parenthetical aside. Ahem.)

2. I really, really wanted to fix the pacing... but I bit off more than I could chew with that one. I couldn't figure out how to manage the fix while maintaining canon continuity (that is, not just cutting out scenes 'cause I felt like it), working in the character development I wanted (that takes wordage), and keeping chapter sizes at relatively equal lengths (necessary for sensible updating). And so the story fluctuated wildly between my own tempo and the one set by Meyer, which severely damaged the flow and undermined my "tack this into the second half of New Moon and hopefully you won't notice someone else has started writing" effort. It will drive me crazy _forever_.

3. There were leaps of characterization that require quite a bit of backflipping to justify. In spite of my "Meyer went OOC with her own creations" approach, a rigidly Meyer-esque Bella would have meant _no_ growth, so some cherry-picking had to happen. I'll argue canon basis for every character choice I made, but there's no getting around the fact that the preponderance of evidence points to Meyer's Bella Swan being a selfish, inconsiderate brat (though by far the worst of her behavior comes after the divergent point at the beginning of this fic). So I took what I liked and found wanking loopholes for the rest, which is really all you can do when writing J/B.

4. With the imprinting, I simply couldn't bring myself to do the in depth research necessary to achieve _true_ canon compatibility, because that would have meant doing an in-depth Breaking Dawn analysis. My sanity was already hanging by a thread. If I incorporated the snip-snip-snip, well, I would've said "the hell with this" and deleted all my files in a huff. Luckily, Breaking Dawn doesn't even make Twilight sense. So I had some justification for chucking it.

5. Towards the end the Meyer-voice started to get away from me and I could never entirely bring it back. God help me, I started to _like _my little mutant lab rat of a story. By the last few chapters, during the times I _had _to make a choice between the plot and Meyer-voice, I started to lean slightly more on the side of the plot. I'm hoping that at least the transition was gradual and that no one noticed too much.

That being said, I think I largely succeeded in my three major goals for this fic:

1. Showing that there was an alternative character interpretation to Jacob being all sunshine and puppies about imprinting on Bella, and that Bella _was _in fact capable of growth if thrown into alternative circumstances wherein she had to focus on someone other than herself.

2. Maintaining canon compliance - right down to the number of chapters. In the end, the removed portion of New Moon was somewhere around 74k words, and this fic is about 96k words... but there's also 22k words of additional characterization, I'd say, so I can live with that. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure there aren't any canon event mistakes. (Except for the cell phone, which I announced in the beginning, and the fact that I deleted a day of Bella's "hanging out in La Push" time for pacing purposes. In this, Bella goes to work on Monday; in the book, she works on Tuesday. Yes, it bugs me.)

3. Proving that there is no writing craft reason that Meyer couldn't have done this. Hell, she could have done it _better_ when you consider that she would be writing in the voice that comes to her naturally (whereas I was practically having to figure out each word as I typed). _She_ was capable of this. Meyer is a lousy writer _and_ a lousy storyteller, and those are two different things. She shouldn't be cut any slack for the latter just because of the former. Her story is bad, and it didn't _have_ to be just because she can't write.

Those successes are what matter to me most, but the fails are still grating.

* * *

**How's your sanity holding up?**

_Short answer_: Ow.

_Long answer_: What began as a Pygmalion-esque personal challenge became an English lit journey into the heart of darkness.

Meyer sucks. This is not news - I knew her prose sucked after I'd finished the first eight paragraphs of Twilight (it took me about 200 pages to understand her story-telling was no better) - but the extent? In spite of all the awfulness I'd seen, I _still _didn't realize how much my eyes had simply skipped over until I made myself sit down and go line... by... line.

In all of my life, I have never read a more frustrating author. Her style is terrible. Her characters are hollow at best and disturbing at worst. Her id is so nakedly on display in certain parts that I have to avert my eyes. And yet - I think by accident - she stumbled into a common but still worthwhile concept: Growing Up Is Hard. _And she ran the other way_. I feel like if I can figure this out, if I can _understand_ how in God's name a writer can _so completely miss her own point_, then I might achieve some sort of intellectual or spiritual enlightenment.

Moving on.

Writing in someone else's voice turned out to be a much bigger challenge than I had anticipated. Maybe this is not all Meyer's fault; maybe had I attempted to write like, say, Isabel Allende, I would've had similar issues. But Meyer's voice certainly didn't help. I've _never _had so much trouble making a story obey me. Usually I just conceptualize the basics of a plot (the beginning, the climax, and the big things I want to hit in the middle) then let the writing figure it out on its own. That didn't happen here. The characters weren't doing what I'd anticipated. _I could not control the Meyer-voice_. _The Meyer-voice has a will of its own_. (Like the Ring of Power, except not badass.)

Then... the migraines started. Followed by occasional weeping, throwing of items, and raving in the kitchen at the cats or my husband. I became extremely whiny and melodramatic (more than usual, believe it or not). I laid face-down in bed for hours with my iPod on repeat to try and figure out where the _fuck _this story was taking me. I gave up food and started having soda-erotic dreams about drinking ginger ale. By the last few chapters my glands were swollen and I was running a constant lowgrade fever.

I used to think of Meyer as a talentless hack. Now I see her more as the boogeyman.

Needless to say, I am never doing anything like this again. (And if I tried, I think my husband would divorce me. Or have me locked up. Maybe both.) At the same time, it was all worth it - because You. Guys. Rock. I have _never_ had as much fun in comment threads as I did on this story. The analysis, the theories, the discussions... I've said it a hundred times, but I'm saying it again: _this is the smartest fandom I have ever participated in._ Hands down. I _loved_ chatting about the themes that came up. (Yes, I find chatting about themes to be fun. I'm odd.) Here's the thing: we got cheated. We should have been able to discuss themes and theories about _the actual saga_, instead of 90% of the Twilight-related analysis being about the PTSD level of suckitude. Here, I feel like I finally got what Meyer should have given us, and that's all 'cause of you peeps. I am immensely grateful.

_(I'd like to send out particular thanks to __**thankthatstar**__ [who sat with me in a coffee shop as I was just starting to form this fic and didn't laugh me out of the room as I explained it in a caffeinated monologue] and __**likexaxdove**__ [who messaged me back and forth as I was stuck on multiple sections, came up with ideas, and patted my head reassuringly]. I give you many snorgles.)_

* * *

**So... sequel?**

_Short answer_: No.

_Long answer_: **_Fuck_** no.

I know this is going to make me very unpopular, but the story ended this way because it was a rewrite of New Moon and New Moon wasn't the end of the series. I wanted to leave it with a set up for a better and more interesting book than Eclipse, thus proving that Eclipse _could indeed have been_ a better and more interesting book. But my experiment is over. If you want to know what happens next... you're all very clever. Imagine it any way you'd like. Go nuts. Sequels are overrated, anyway; they never live up to your expectations. (By the way, can I get a head count on who guessed that the story wouldn't have an 'ending'? I'm curious. Mostly, I want to know if you figured it out before _I_ did.)

_[Edited to add: Seriously, guys, I am so fucking tired I can't even tell you. I don't have it in me.]_

* * *

And there you have it. The most self-indulgent author's note in the history of self-indulgent author's notes. I hope this fic makes a little more sense now, and that you liked it okay, whether for the experiment or for the story... maybe even both. Thanks again.

* * *

**_Additional note_**: mintenergy brought up a really good point in the first comment, and I want to fix what is probably the biggest clarity fail I've had in a fic with a _lot_ of clarity fail. I didn't mean to imply that anyone is wrong or stupid for liking this story. I'm unbelievably gratified by the response I've gotten, and I'm actually quite proud of the parts that are mine (plot, theme, and character development). And I know the writing improved once I was freed of canon restraints, even though in a weird way that was a failure on my part. But all the compliments I've gotten? They've never been on the Meyer-esque bits, not once. (Well, aside from the "Good job on that line, I bet that hurt to write" stuff.) Believe me, I was watching, because that was the point at which I'd need to be locked up. I suck _hard_ for implying I don't respect you guys, and for that I am really, really sorry.


	18. Additional Author's Note

**_I swear this is the last note:_ **I seem to have underestimated the amount of genuine, heartfelt desire for a sequel, so my flippancy on the subject wasn't really appropriate. I'd like to explain my reasoning in a little more detail.

1. I'm really, really tired. In spite of all my belly-aching, I really did enjoy writing this fic - kind of like biathletes in the Olympics who puke their guts into the snow after they cross the finish line, but are still proud of themselves. My motivation for this story had a lot less to do with my hatred for Meyer than it did with being unable to resist the hardcore intellectual challenge that proving the difference between writing and storytelling presented. That's the kind of thing that doesn't present itself every day of the week. But I seriously underestimated how much it would take out of me (if it wasn't for my pride, I would have quit about halfway through). I can't do it again.

2. I honestly don't know what happens next in the plot. I'm not holding out on you - I _don't_. I don't have the slightest idea. If I tried to write a sequel, it would be for sequel's sake, and therefore would be forced and probably suck. (If any of _you_ know how it goes, you have my full and complete permission to try.)

3. While I don't know where the plot goes, I can tell you that I have a pretty vague sense of where the theme would take me... and it's nowhere pretty. The sequel would be dark. Very dark. A lot, lot, _lot_ darker than I want to write or you want to read. Writing requires a certain amount of empathy with the characters, and if I take on that level of darkness I will lose my mind. I also don't want to take away the possibility of a happy ending from you guys (not that the sequel would necessarily have an unhappy ending - I don't know the plot - but it wouldn't be sunshine and puppies, I can promise you that). You really are better off picturing it yourselves.

4. I know in my heart of hearts that it would require keeping Bella first person POV... which means keeping Meyer-voice. Not nearly to the extent that this fic was - no more line lifting, no more canon constraints - but Bella wouldn't suddenly have an entirely different internal monologue. She'd still sound like herself, and that's Meyer-voice. I can't do it anymore. The only even plausible alternative would be Jacob first person POV - and I've been there, done that. The amount of crossover with DoW would be deeply unsatisfying to everyone, including myself.

5. There won't be a Prom Night outtake. Again, I know in my heart of hearts that it would need to take place somewhere close to the center of the book, which means that at least in my own head I would need to have the plot of the story sketched out up until that point, and probably beyond. If I somehow _found_ the plot that currently eludes me, that would set me up with a serious temptation to go ahead and write it - which, for the reasons outlined above, would be a really bad idea. (And my husband would divorce me.) Also, I'm pretty sure it would be a virgin!sex scene. While it would be a new POV and PG-13 at best (therefore involving a lot of euphemisms and a not-too-scary fade to black), you can really only do virgin!sex once for a set of characters. I've done it already, and the crossover would, again, be deeply unsatisfying. (That being said, I'd like to point everyone toward gypseians crazy sweet take on prom night - http(:) / (audreyii-fic) .livejournal (.com)/ 10635(.) html (?) (thread=832395#t832395). Feel free to use it as head canon.)

I hope this makes more sense?


	19. The Bread Knife Calls For A Sequel

Okay. So. Here's the thing.

I made the decision not to write a sequel to Movement of the Earth. While I was very sad about how many people were upset with that (something I honestly never anticipated, by that point I thought everyone would be as happy to see it end as I was), I felt it was the right decision for my health and my sanity. It was. I haven't had a migraine since I finished the epilogue.

Then on New Year's Day I cut the pad of my left index finger on a bread knife.

This was gross.

Anyway, it was bleeding a bunch, but, hell, whatever, right? I slapped on a bunch of bandaids, tightened them up, and went on my way.

A few hours later, I figured I'd better change them.

They stuck.

I realized that I hadn't cut my finger, I'd _cut off a piece of my finger._ And the bandaid had _healed in._

So, yeah. I went to urgent care. They had to soak the damn thing off and rewrap it in super-special non-stick doctor bandages and frankly, it hurt like a motherfucking bitch. While I was looking at my bandaged hand, the irony was not lost on me. This was remarkably similar to what I'd done to Sam in MotE. Interesting, that.

Two days later, I'd healed into the _super-special non-stick doctor bandages_ and had to have the _whole thing ripped out again. _

The doctor said she'd never, in six years, seen that happen with this kind of bandage before. Not once. At this point I was starting to get nervous. Story karma, perhaps? Was Sam out to get me? It was too late to go back and fix his life. The story was done. Was it a sign I was supposed to work on a sequel?

No.

No.

Absolutely not.

I refuse to be intimidated by story karma. 

_No._

Then this morning I found a _dead bug in my bandage._

Story karma wins.

I'm not promising it any time soon, or in what format it will be presented. It might not be anything more than a super-detailed outline or something like that. Fuck, maybe I'll just do a drabble series, who knows. Not to mention I have to wait until my finger heals and I can type faster than a snail's pace. But, yes, I'm starting to sketch out a sequel, because otherwise I think story karma will give me gangrene and my hand will fall off.

Let this be a warning to all writers: Be careful how you leave Sam in a story. He has powers.


	20. The Fire of the Sun

Okay, I feel _really_ stupid for not thinking to post this two months ago, but the sequel to The Movement of the Earth is now being posted. It's called The Fire of the Sun and can be found on my profile. I'm guessing most people have already followed through, but if you haven't, well, now you know.

*smacks forehead*


	21. PDF:  aka, I FOUND THE FONT!

For anyone who is interested, a canon-format-compliant version of The Movement of the Earth is now available for download in .pdf format.

http (colon-slash-slash) audreyii-fic (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) 33811 (dot) html

The page numbering corresponds to where the story picks up in _New Moon_. Yes, I am _that_ anal-retentive.


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